


17 34 17

by SebasuchansKitten



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-01-16 16:24:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 36,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1353943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SebasuchansKitten/pseuds/SebasuchansKitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An arranged marriage, a rich yet controlling fiancé, a loving but poor merchant, and a young man who must fight against his fate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Diary Entry #210

**Author's Note:**

> The accuracy of this story will be a little off, especially regarding Ciel's gender.
> 
> Arranged marriages were strictly male and female, since liking someone of the same sex was completely out of the question.
> 
> I hate fics that make Ciel a female, though, so the male and female rule had to be altered to fit my liking. As for the history and the time date for this story, I'm not an expert so bear with me.
> 
> Okay enough blabbing. Enjoy kitlets ^-^

 

_**Edgar's Promise** _

_Null and void in frozen snow,_

_Lies our land so far below_

_Beneath the bodies at our feet,_

_Lies our kingdom, bittersweet_

_The tears of children are meaningless,_

_The mother is a meager grieving mess_

_And underneath that faithful sun,_

_Lies a lonely soldiers gun_

_Amongst the leaves and furrowed branches,_

_There's something more than poor men's ranches_

_For beyond the graves,_

_Beyond the lances,_

_A passionate couple dreamily dances_

_The place I once knew_

_I know no more_

_Yet my heart still travels with unwavering lore_

_Wherever I am,_

_Night or day,_

_I still see the fleur-de-lis sway_

_**-S. Kitten** _

* * *

 

Rachel sighed as she delicately set her tea cup down, a solemn frown carved in her lips.

"I fear the fate of France, as well. Vincent predicts a war is soon to come."

"I believe Vincent is correct," Mademoiselle Red said sadly. "This crisis won't lighten a smidge."

Ciel sat quietly with his hands folded in his lap, keeping his posture proper and formal.

"Which is why Ciel will have to be our _ange,"_ Rachel stated, not even bothering to give her son a glance. "He'll be marrying a wealthy noble soon, you know."

"Is that right?" Mademoiselle Red quizzed, taking a small sip out of her tea cup. "How did you ever find a stable suitor?"

"It was simple, really," Rachel smiled. "Ciel is a delicate and fragile young man, not to mention his beautiful feminine features. All I had to do was…"

Ciel clenched his fists, wrinkling the cloth that was sprawled across his lap. Every day he was forced to listen to his mother gossip about him as if he weren't even there. Every day he had to sit through the petty insults and listen to the simple conversations of the elders that incarcerated his freedom, and every day his protocol weakened.

Ciel was, as Vincent called it, an 'unlucky one' since birth. It had only taken a few years into Ciel's youth for everyone to realize that he was an unusual child.

And by unusual they implied his abnormally petite size.

Ciel was a frail boy, with tiny, thin legs and an anomalous body shape. So anomalous, in fact, that he highly resembled a woman, not to mention his soft eyes, ravishing hair and impeccable skin, all of which emphasized femininity.

Since Ciel was considered incompetent and unsuitable to take Marquis of Phantomhive's place, he was assumed to be their daughter, and was expected to marry another noble.

Which, in his case, was an unspecified duke originating from Brittany.

"When will he meet his fiancé, then?"

Ciel blinked and he shifted his eyes toward his mother, whom was devoting her full attention to Mademoiselle Red.

"I'm not certain when he'll be making the journey. Surely it isn't safe to travel with the peasants revolting."

 _Peasants,_ Ciel thought pensively. _Do they have guidelines? Someone that tells them how to live?_

"Please excuse me, Mother," Ciel said abruptly, standing and pushing in his chair. "It was a pleasure seeing you, Mademoiselle Red."

"It's _Madame_ Red, Ciel," his aunt corrected viciously. "Learn how to speak to your elders."

"Forgive me," Ciel gave a small bow before turning on his heel and leaving the room.

* * *

 

"Toss it over here, Sebastian!"

Sebastian smiled mischievously. "Alright, but I won't go easy on you this time."

The little boy giggled and flailed his arms. "I'm not scared of you! Gimme your best shot!"

Sebastian's grin widened and he pitched the tomato with vigor, excited to see if the boy could handle the challenge.

"Whoa!" The boy cried, and instead of catching the projectile he ducked, making the ripe fruit hit the ground with a _splat._

"Michaelis!" A deep voice boomed, and both the boy and the man frowned.

"Michaelis! Get over here!"

"Right away, Sir," Sebastian called back nervously, and he trudged over to the small child.

"I'm sorry I got you in trouble, Sebastian," the boy whimpered, and Sebastian gave him a meek smile, patting him on the back reassuringly.

"Don't worry about it, Luka. Come back tomorrow and we can play some more."

"Michaelis!"

"Thanks, Sebastian," Luka smiled and hugged him before running off, leaving the troubled young man alone.

"Michaelis, there you are!"

Sebastian turned to see his boss approaching, his angry expression palpable.

"That's the third tomato you've spoiled this week!"

"I-I'm sorry Midford… I just-"

"That's _Monsieur_ Midford to you!" Mr. Midford screamed. "I never would have hired you if I knew you'd be destroying my profit and produce!"

"It won't happen again, Sir," Sebastian promised.

"It better not," Mr. Midford warned. "I gave you this job so you could help your mother out and afford a few pieces of bread, but all you've done is cause me trouble."

"I'm sorry," Sebastian apologized once more. "It will never happen again."

"Alright," Mr. Midford huffed. "You can have your _déjeuner_ now. But don't think about taking any more of my produce. I caught you last time and chose not to comment on it."

Sebastian nodded and breathed with relief when he was dismissed.

The young peasant sighed as he slumped down against a tree trunk, relishing the cool shade. He adjusted his brown suspender straps that rested against his loose white shirt before taking a small apple out of his pocket and biting into it zealously.

Sebastian Michaelis, to put it candidly, was an unimportant young man. Being only nineteen, Sebastian had been in the third estate since birth, which meant having to fight for mere pieces of bread that even the birds wouldn't eat.

Alexis Midford, a simple man with a temper shorter than his pinky nail, offered Sebastian a small merchant position at his outdoor market, selling and distributing produce to varieties of people. The starving peasant didn't have a choice if he wanted to eat, so he gladly took the job.

That was nine years ago, and for nine long, tiring years Sebastian worked under Mr. Midford.

The job allowed Sebastian to meet many people, including urchins that starved and begged him for food, one being little Luka.

Sebastian never denied them food and he consistently snuck them vegetables behind Mr. Midford's back. It definitely wasn't a characteristic of the perfect worker, but the smiles on the children's faces made it all worth it.

…And the sneers Sebastian received from nobles made the job absolutely appalling.

Though the indigents loved and appreciated Sebastian more than anyone, the nobles stuck their noses up to the sky, treating him rudely like every other peasant that came their way.

The mere memories of past confrontations made Sebastian grit his teeth in anger.

 _The nobles think they're high and mighty,_ he thought bitterly. _But they'll all get overthrown soon. Them and their egotistic king._

Sebastian wasn't thinking out of spite, either. The poor really were getting tired of the nobles and the monarchy deciding whether they could eat or not, and one day they were going to truly show the second and third estates how powerful they really were.

But, until then, Sebastian would simply lay under this tree and enjoy the cool shade until his break was over, munch on his apple and daydream of a better life someplace else.

 _The high and mighty nobles,_ Sebastian thought sadly, crossing his legs in order to get more comfortable. _Do they have worries? Someone that actually strikes fear into their spoiled hearts?_

"Michaelis, time to get back to work," Mr. Midford called.

"Yes, Sir," Sebastian obeyed, standing immediately and stretching his aching muscles.

_Someone that actually strikes fear into their spoiled hearts._

* * *

 

"Ciel!"

The unsuspecting boy jumped at the sudden call and his aunt chuckled.

"Didn't expect me, did you?"

"You gave me a fright," Ciel admitted, turning to greet the interloper. "How may I be of service, Mademois- erm, pardon, Madame Red?"

"Good boy, you're learning," his aunt smiled. "I'm afraid you were a bit quiet at tea today. That's unacceptable, Ciel."

"In your eyes," Ciel muttered under his breath, thankfully too low for his aunt to hear.

"You do remember what you've been taught, don't you?"

"Yes, yes, I remember every one of those stupid lessons!" Ciel blurted. "How could I forget those tiresome hours of learning proper etiquette and how to behave in front of my elders and my soon-to-be husband? I remember them all!"

Madame Red said nothing as she regarded her nephew with wide eyes. Ciel permitted himself to calm down before noticing her stunned appearance.

"Forgive me, Madame," Ciel apologized quietly. "That was out of character."

"Ciel," Madame Red whispered sympathetically, approaching her strained nephew slowly and laying her hand on his shoulder when she was near. "I know it's not fair."

"What ever could you be talking about," Ciel murmured sarcastically. "It's my duty as an 'unlucky one,' is it not? To be morphed and molded into the perfect bride for some wealthy and conceited man? Is that not my duty, Madame Red?"

"It is your duty," Madame Red agreed, daintily running her fingers through Ciel's soft locks. "But it isn't fair for you to have to live like that. You should be preparing to take Marquis of Phantomhive's place, not preparing to become a duchess."

"I haven't a choice," Ciel stated in a grim tone. "Though I do hope that many don't face the same fate."

"There aren't many boys like you out there," Madame Red confirmed, the ghost of a small smile daring to make an appearance. "You're one of a kind."

"Ha," Ciel spat. "One of a kind. One of an _unlucky_ kind to be more specific, Madame. An unfortunate and ill-fated kind."

A knock on the door halted Madame Red from commenting and Ciel raised his head.

"Enter."

A small creak sounded and both the boy and his aunt observed a small head pop in.

"What is it, Hannah?" Madame Red asked, obviously annoyed with the intrusion.

"Forgive me, Lord Phantomhive and Madame Red, but Marquise Phantomhive says it's time."

"Oh my, he's early," Madame Red remarked, and Ciel's eyes shifted to his aunt.

"Who is early?"

"Your mother and I were trying to throw you off during tea," Madame Red admitted. "We didn't want to spoil the surprise."

 _"Who_ is early?" Ciel demanded, his patience shortening.

"I'll be downstairs," Hannah chirped before quickly disappearing behind the door. Ciel continued to stare at his aunt, waiting for an answer. The crimson-covered woman squeezed her nephews shoulder and grinned.

"Straighten out those wrinkles in your ruffled shirt, Ciel. It's time to meet your fiancé."

* * *

 

  **So yeah this fic is obviously set in France, and since it's in France there will be more French words being spoken between characters which I will post the definitions to at the end of each chapter.**

**Ange - Angel**

**Monsieur - Mr./Sir**

**Déjeuner - Lunch**


	2. Diary Entry #213

"What did you think of the duke? Is he worth his noble title?"

Ciel superciliously lifted his teacup to his lips, taking gentle sips and swallows. "He's worth a few stares and gawks. He seemed to impress _Mére_ and Madame Red."

Alois scoffed and held his hand out, studying his long, perfected nails. "Women will say yes to anything these days. They're desperate to discard us, you know. What did Marquis of Phantomhive say?"

Ciel frowned and lowered his cup. "Marquis finds him apposite."

"Now that's unforeseen," Alois remarked. "He must be a charmer since Marquis wants only what's best for his _fille."_

"I suggest you keep quiet, Alois," Ciel snapped. "I am still his son."

"Come now," Alois said softly, crossing his legs and glancing at his friend. "You know as well as I that we are both expected to be exquisite play-things, appearing as women that want nothing but their husband's happiness."

"I know," Ciel whispered. "As Marquis of Phantomhive has told me, we are the unlucky ones."

"Drivel!" Alois declared. "Drivel, I say!"

Ciel sighed and rubbed his temples. Whenever his forthright friend had one of his outbursts, he knew to stay quiet and avoid an impending conflict.

The two, as Ciel put it, 'unlucky ones,' sat in their woven chairs and enjoyed a nice cup of tea while viewing the exceptionally lovely garden that the Phantomhive's were famous for.

According to protocol and Ciel's current situation, he was expected to behave like a young lady, and one of the behaviors included gossiping. Ciel's friend since childhood, Alois Trancy, happened to be placed in the same situation as himself, which allowed the two to visit each other often.

As stated by Rachel, Ciel needed to have the social interaction that all young lady's experience, so she took it upon herself to invite Alois over to the estate regularly for tea, permitting Ciel to gossip and chatter with the other 'unlucky one' as much as he'd like.

"Speaking of drivel," Ciel began, changing the subject. "How are arrangements with your fiancé going?"

"Quite well," Alois stated, in an unexpectedly surprising tone. "Claude Faustus, Duke of Marche. He's an extremely handsome man, though rather a bore."

"A bore, hm?" Ciel mused, running his finger around the rim of his teacup. "So you actually have a fondness for him?"

"I do," Alois answered honestly. "I couldn't have found a match so perfect. He's fairly romantic, too. 'Day into night, sugar into salt, living to dead and dark blue to gold. No matter the circumstances, I will be there.' That's what he said, Ciel! Those very same words!"

"I see," Ciel said impassively. "I'm glad to hear that the arrangements are carrying on well."

"The wedding is next week," Alois responded in an apprehensive voice. "I'm afraid he may change his mind or the ceremony won't go as planned."

"Listen to you," Ciel remarked, a devious smirk lighting up his face. "You already sound like a restless bride. You'll be the perfect housewife that obeys her husband's orders."

"Don't talk to me like that!" Alois shouted angrily, standing to his feet. "You're perfectly well aware of the fact that we're expected to behave in such a manner! I'm merely following my directives!"

"You have no pride!" Ciel retorted, standing to his feet, as well. "Look at you! You're so concerned about your fiancé's happiness that you forgot about your own title! We're still _males,_ Alois! We deserve a right to forbid this from happening!"

"We have no rights," Alois contradicted sadly. "You know that. No matter how hard we fight nor how much we refuse we have no choice but to listen to everyone's desires except our own."

Ciel sighed despairingly. Alois was right. It didn't matter if they remained stubborn or happily complied, they would have the same fate either way.

He hated that feeling. It was as if his family held his soul in their hands, playing and teasing it like a small child's toy. Then, as soon as newcomers gave them offers on that toy, they sold it away without a second thought, authorizing that newcomer to play and tease it however he pleased.

That was Ciel's life. His _soul._ And it was his family that would sell his soul without a care in the world as soon as they were finished frolicking with it.

"I beg your pardon, Lord Phantomhive, Lord Trancy," Hannah acknowledged quietly, promptly curtsying before shuffling next to Ciel.

"Yes, Hannah, what is it?" Ciel inquired.

"Marquise Phantomhive has announced a visitors arrival."

Ciel raised an eyebrow. "Is it the Marquis?"

Hannah shook her head. "I'm afraid not, Sir, rather your fiancé."

"It's been two days," Ciel exclaimed angrily. "What reason does he have to show up now?"

"He would like to visit with you," Hannah stated. "His trip from Brittany was extensive and he'd like to become familiar with his bride."

"Don't say that, Hannah," Ciel warned darkly.

"As you wish, Sir. I am only saying what has been expected of me."

"I know, I know," Ciel forgave. "It's not your fault. Send him out here when he's ready."

"Yes, Sir," Hannah gave an obeisance before hurrying back inside the manor.

"So I get to meet the lad, then," Alois said with a confident smile, placing his hand on his hip. "How exciting."

"Please remain appropriate, Alois," Ciel advised. "If you believe that the Duke of Marche is stiff, wait until you meet the Duke of Brittany."

"Right out here, Sir," Hannah's soft voice was heard.

"Thank you."

Ciel bit his lip momentarily and the two males turned as the glass doors opened, revealing Ciel's fiancé at last.

* * *

 

"You're tellin' me that if I mix these two things together, it'll create a reaction?"

"Yes!" Sebastian verified excitedly. "It will create a glorious reaction!"

"Okay," Bard said uneasily. "But what's this stuff made out of, Sebastian?"

"This here," Sebastian started, lifting up a beaker proudly. "Is potassium iodide."

"Uhh okay. So… What does it do?"

"Nothing," Sebastian declared.

"Nothing?" Bard asked. "It does _nothing?_ Then why am I here?!"

"You didn't let me finish," Sebastian chuckled. "It does absolutely nothing on its own, but when combined with this," he continued, holding up another beaker. "It has an amazing reaction."

Bard stared at the potassium iodide crystals resting at the bottom of the first vial before his eyes transferred to the clear liquid in the second.

"Alright, so the white rock things are the potassium iodidio. What's the clear stuff?"

_"Iodide,"_ Sebastian corrected. "And I'm not sure. Some stranger dropped it after he paid for his groceries. I haven't thought of a name for it yet, but whenever it's combined with the potassium iodide crystals it produces-"

"I know, an amazing reaction," Bard finished. "I don't see why you get so interested in this stuff."

Bard, Sebastian's best friend since youth, was also born in the third estate. However, Bard was indifferent about being poor and simple. He tolerated his job of working on a farm and he didn't mind the ragged clothes and life of an indigent.

His companion, on the other hand, though he did work at a market, enjoyed chemistry immensely. No matter where Sebastian wandered, he was constantly seen mixing and studying liquids and solids, observing the concepts of forming gases, examining the physical properties of malleable materials. Just the thought of it all gave him chills!

"I'm interested in it because I love it," Sebastian admitted with a smile. "The possibilities are endless. I study things that I can see with my own two eyes, but imagine the tinier things in life that I can't see. Imagine a life in smaller particles that has day-to-day routines like us, and their own special purposes. Imagine a life so small that it could fit in the palm of your hand!"

"You're odd," Bard concluded. "We need to focus on _our_ lives instead."

"I suppose you're right," Sebastian sighed. "Maybe I'm getting a little carried away."

"Don't get down on yourself," Bard encouraged, patting Sebastian's back. "I'm sure your two little vials make a great kaboom."

"It's missing something," Sebastian said, staring at his two beakers and pondering. "But what…"

"Look, Mr. Scientist, you have all day to figure out what's missing. We better get back to the market before Monsieur _Méchant_ notices you're gone."

"Alright," Sebastian agreed, stowing his two beakers behind his bed of straw. He followed his friend out and the two strolled through the busy slums in silence.

_Something is missing,_ Sebastian continued to ponder as they walked. _But what?_

* * *

 

Alois was reticent, his mouth wide open in surprise. Ciel stood there, struggling to keep his expression blank instead of disgusted.

He hated this man. He really did.

And his dread prolonged its augmentation as he continued to approach the two boys, his polished shoes hitting the stone with quiet _click click clicks._

_I want him out of here,_ Ciel screamed inside of his head. _I want him to return to Brittany and never come back!_

"Hello, my darling," Ciel's fiancé greeted, and Ciel secretly clenched his fists as tight as he could before meeting the man's gaze.

Standing at an approximate 6'0", the man towered over his petite fiancé, practically casting a shadow with his elevated physique. He had natural _noir_ hair, which he kept neatly trimmed and combed. His chartreuse eyes were constantly contradicting in color, debating between a green and a yellow. Though the color was rather pretty, they were visually catching for their odd humorlessness, alerting others that he was a strict and professional man. The stringency in his eyes was increased by his black glasses, that matched and completed his outfit of a dark suit.

"Don't be rude, Ciel," Alois teased, his shock wearing off. "Introduce me."

"Darling," Ciel said stiffly with a _faux_ smile, gesturing toward his friend. "This is Lord Alois Trancy, future Duchess of Marche."

"A pleasure," Ciel's fiancé pronounced, taking a hold of Alois's hand and placing a light kiss to his knuckles. "I've known the Duke of Marche for many years. We're quite close companions."

"Oh," Alois blushed with a flattered giggle. "We all must get together for tea sometime."

"And _Alois,"_ Ciel continued, choosing to ignore his friend's flirtatious attitude. "This is my fiancé…"

Ciel's sentence drifted off and he gave a subtle, nervous cough before finishing.

"… William T. Spears, Duke of Brittany."

* * *

 

"Hey, Sebastian!" Bard protested. "Don't use all my soap! I might smell succulent now but believe me I'll need it later!"

Sebastian smiled at his friend's joke and continued to scrape shavings off the bar of soap with his knife.

"Don't worry, Bard. I won't use it all. I think this is the final ingredient that I'm missing in my mixture."

"The final ingredient huh," Bard mused, watching Sebastian carve the soap. "What's useless parings of soap going to do?"

"If I'm correct, the soap should help stimulate and enhance the final product. This is all I need to make the response unimaginably magnificent! It will produce wonders right before our eyes!"

"Your vocabulary sure is big for a peasant, y'know."

Sebastian flashed Bard a grin. "I've been eavesdropping on conversations between the nobles. They have large vocabularies. Half the words I've never even heard before. I want to prove that I can be as intelligent as them without _argent de poche."_

"Whatever you say, genius. So how will we know if this magnificent thing works?"

"We must try it out tomorrow," Sebastian decided. "I'll hide it in my shirt and bring it to the market. Meet me there and we'll try."

"Are you crazy?" Bard exclaimed. "Mr. Midford will kill us!"

"I must try," Sebastian begged. "I have to know if it will work."

Bard was hesitant as he thought the idea over, and the pleading look Sebastian gave him hindered him from refusing.

"Alright," Bard surrendered. "We'll try your science experiment tomorrow."

* * *

 

**Sebastian's so cute. Gotta love an aspiring scientist.**

**The "mystery" ingredient Sebastian supposedly found was hydrogen peroxide, and his "experiment" is really something called "elephant toothpaste," which can be made from a potassium iodide solution, hydrogen peroxide, and dish soap. It's cool if you want to try it out.**

**In that time period, hydrogen peroxide did not exist and neither did dish soap, (regular soap would most likely not work) but this is FICTION so, like I said before, please bear with me.**

**Mére - Mother**

**Fille - Daughter/Girl**

**Méchant - Mean**

**Noir - Black**

**Faux - False/Fake**

**Argent de poche - Spending money**

 


	3. Diary Entry #214

Hannah Anafeloz had served the Phantomhive family since she was a young girl.

She was born in the third estate and had no siblings, which left her to be the caretaker of her mother and a strong, working bull for her father. It certainly wasn't easy, but Hannah managed.

The Anafeloz girl learned her place in the real world immediately after associating with others. She became perfectly cognizant of the fact that the nobles were better and always would be better than her.

Did it enrage Hannah? Mercy, no. Quite the opposite, actually. It fueled her with the passion of wanting to serve one of those nobles, no matter how inexplicable that desire was.

Her parents, like the rest of the peasants, spoke the lowest of the higher classes. And they had every right to considering the treatment they received from the aristocrats daily.

But Hannah didn't speak ill of the rich, nor did she think of them as sycophants, (a word her mother directed to the duchess's frequently.)

No, what little Hannah really desired was to cater and accommodate the wealthy nobles.

She could imagine a neatly pressed maid outfit replacing her rags and tatters. She could feel her fingers curl around a brush for the first time, combing her ratted tresses until they glimmered with cleanliness. She could feel the stares and widening eyes as she elegantly arranged the assiettes into a flawless dining display. Why, she could practically hear gasps of amazement and sighs of appreciation as she delivered the nightly meal on _un plateau,_ consisting of a large slab of beef that melted like butter against their noble tongues and fresh bread that crackled like a cozy fire on a cold winter night. Afterwards, a rich and divine chocolate dessert that kept them craving and begging for more, eating the sugary repast until their ruffled silk linens burst from the growth of their abdomens. And the _wine._ She'd serve them the finest wine in an unlimited supply, soaking in the warm ambiance of drunk laughter and carefree smiles.

The life seemed so perfect and so close, Hannah could practically taste it on her tongue. However, in the same instance, it was a dream she could never have no matter how hard she worked for it nor how often she begged.

She was born in the third estate, therefore she would stay in the third estate.

"Hannah," her mother coughed, beckoning the girl.

"Yes, Mother?" Hannah asked quietly and politely.

"I'm willing to bet you're hungry."

"Starving," Hannah admitted. "But it's been three days since you've consumed food, Mother. Surely you must be hungrier than I."

_"J'ai faim,"_ she croaked, her copious coughing growing louder.

"I'll visit the market, Mother," Hannah offered. "They certainly must have apples that they can spare."

"Do not get caught, Hannah," the sick woman warned. "They'll slice the buoyancy right out of you."

Hannah gulped and nodded. "I'll be careful, Mother."

The young girl placed a benevolent kiss on the ill woman's forehead before leaving the bedside and preparing to voyage into town.

As always, Hannah attempted to smooth down her knotted and wiry white hair, hoping that maybe she could appear as beautiful as a noble lady. She frowned as she studied the color pigment of the strands, aware that she must have been born with a curse for having hair whiter than an old woman's. She was also tempted to cut some of it off, since it seemed that one small portion of hair, directly positioned in the back of her head, was slightly longer than the rest. If the fried and straw-like nature of her hair didn't catch anyone's eyes -- which it certainly would -- then the length of that lock would indubitably capture their attention.

"Good morning, Hannah."

"Good morning, Monsieur Lau," Hannah called, waving back to the man.

"Where are you heading so early in the morning?"

"To the market," Hannah said, stopping to talk to Lau. "Would you happen to need anything?"

"A very kind offer but no, I'm in no need of anything," Lau stated with his usual smile. "Don't let them catch you filching."

"I won't," Hannah assured with a smile, throwing the man a wink. "I'm an expert."

The two waved goodbye and Hannah carried on through the slums, calling out a few more 'hellos' to other people she happened to be familiar with.

Soon enough, as she traveled further down the dirt path, the slums were left behind and she smiled when she saw a view of town ahead.

_It's been so long since I've traveled to town,_ Hannah realized. _Filled with nobles with sophisticated clothing and elegant houses occupied with furniture made out of the finest material available._

The enthusiastic girl began skipping down the dirt road, a large grin highlighting her lips and showing off her cute teeth.

_There will be dogs with coats that are brushed until the hair glimmers in the sunlight, maybe a few times more. And giggling children playing with marbles and small trinkets, the mothers chuckling as their progeny live with not a care in the world._

Hannah sighed dreamily and she stopped her skipping once her feet clacked on cobblestone. She gazed in wonder as she became surrounded in a crowd of people, all of them dressed in their regal grandeur.

_Nobles,_ Hannah thought happily. _They're everywhere!_

The disgusted sneers and critical glares that were shot Hannah's way hadn't caught her attention at all, and even if they did, she would still be smiling with admiration. They appeared just as she had remembered from her last venture. So magnificent, so commendable, so _flawless._

Hannah blinked in surprise when she nearly bumped into a small cart of produce, obviously too caught up in her daydreaming to notice the close proximity.

_Alright,_ Hannah instructed herself, letting out a nervous breath as her eyes scanned up and down the choices of fruits and vegetables. _I will grab two apples, one for me and one for mother. I have no room to hide anything else._

Hannah slyly reached her tiny hand up and quickly snatched an apple, tucking the ripe fruit away in her rags.

_I only need one more._

Hannah's hand crept into the apple pile and her fingers grazed the smooth, red skin.

_One more._

"Get your hand out of there you filthy little brat!"

Hannah gasped and immediately turned to run, but a quick hand gripped her wrist firmly, preventing the girl from running away.

"Let me go!" Hannah cried, desperately trying to escape from the grasp.

"You were trying to steal an apple, you thief!" The merchant shrieked. "The guillotine shall be your fate for that!"

"No!" Hannah screamed, thrashing as much as she could, tears already streaming down her face. "Let me go!"

"What is going on here?" A man asked, approaching the situation.

Hannah blinked away the flood of tears to see the man, her mouth slightly opening in awe as she observed his intricately threaded suit, complimented with a top hat that rested on his shiny dark hair that brushed against his face.

"Oh, oh!" The merchant gasped. "Marquis of Phantomhive! I will help you immediately after I dispose of this brat-"

"I asked a question," he reminded.

"Nothing at all, Sir," the merchant answered, giving a forceful tug to Hannah's arm. "Just a young thief trying to steal my profit."

"A thief?" Marquis Phantomhive repeated.

"Yes, Sir."

The marquis slowly bent his knees, lowering himself until he was at eye-level with the girl.

"What is your name?"

"I-I'm sorry, Marquis Phantomhive," Hannah blurted, another flow of tears drizzling down her cheeks. "I didn't mean to cause trouble."

"What is your name?" The marquis asked again, doffing his top hat politely.

"H-Hannah."

"Hannah, did you try to steal an apple?"

"I-I didn't mean to," Hannah squealed once more.

"Hannah," Marquis of Phantomhive said in a stern tone. "Did you try to steal an apple?"

Hannah lowered her head in shame. "Yes, Sir."

The marquis rose to his feet. "Grab an apple, Hannah."

"What?" The merchant and the girl both synchronized in shock.

"Grab an apple," Marquis of Phantomhive reiterated. "Any apple you'd like."

Hannah hesitated before slowly reaching her arm into the bundle of apples and grabbing the largest one she could find.

"Good eye," Marquis Phantomhive commented. "That definitely looks like a delicious one."

The marquis casually slipped the merchant an assignat with a dazzling smirk. "I'm sorry for the trouble. I believe this should cover it."

"W-why yes, Sir, but why would you pay for a filthy brat?"

"Good day," Marquis Phantomhive said, choosing to ignore the question and gesturing for Hannah to follow.

The girl stumbled along, struggling to keep up with the older man. "T-thank you for saving me back there. I wouldn't still have my head if not for you."

Marquis of Phantomhive smiled and stopped for a moment, making the young girl stop, as well.

"You're in the third estate, aren't you, Hannah?"

Hannah's cheeks lit up pink with embarrassment but she nodded nevertheless. "Yes, Sir."

"Come," he gestured. "Let us find a place where we can sit for a while."

The two strolled through more crowds of people and passed dozens of shops before the marquis led her to a small garden bursting with colorful flowers and a flowing water fountain.

"Wow," Hannah sighed, gazing around at the scenery. "This is beautiful."

"I'm glad you like it," Marquis Phantomhive smiled, sitting on a stone bench that rested close to the fountain. "I used to come here when I was a young boy."

Hannah sat next to the marquis and silently continued to admire the plants and glistening water that made a tranquil trickling sound.

"Your hair is beautiful," he remarked. "I've never seen tresses with such a unique color."

"It's a curse," Hannah instantly blurted out. "It makes me look like an old woman."

"I couldn't disagree more," the marquis argued. "The rareness of that color makes you special."

"Yeah, I guess," Hannah murmured grimly. "It's rough and straw-like, too. Not like all those other pretty girls with soft hair."

The marquis slightly frowned before he reached into his coat.

"You know," he began as he slipped the small object out. "I have a pregnant wife at home. According to the needle trick, we're expecting a daughter."

"Really?" Hannah asked with interest, her mood brightening a little from the subject change.

"Yes," Marquis Phantomhive answered, gently taking a strand of Hannah's hair. "I plan on buying her gorgeous dresses and jewels that will adore her neck and wrists. Every night I'll tuck her in and brush her hair before bed, but since my daughter isn't here yet, will you allow me to brush your hair instead?"

Hannah turned her head to see a small hairbrush in the marquis's fingers, the silver handle glinting in the light.

"Please," Hannah begged. "I've always wanted to have my hair brushed."

Marquis of Phantomhive smiled and nodded, then he began taking the brush and running it through her knotted locks, smoothing out the unique white hair.

Hannah sighed as she felt the knots in her hair come undone, her tresses now seeming lighter and softer against her neck.

_"À la claire fontaine,"_ Marquis Phantomhive sang softly as he continued to brush the girl's hair.

"I know that song," Hannah whispered. "My mother used to sing it to me. _'Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, jamais je ne t'oublierai.'"_

"That's right," he smiled. "You know that song well."

"It used to be my favorite," Hannah stated sadly. "I could listen to her sing it over and over and it would never get old."

They sat in silence for a few moments, letting the trickling water, chirping birds, and quiet breeze speak their mind.

"All done."

Hannah swooped her hair over her shoulder, amazed as her fingers ran through her newly supple and gorgeous hair.

"It feels so nice," she gushed, petting her hair continuously until she felt a slight bump.

The marquis laughed as Hannah brought the one braid into view, studying the pattern in confusion.

"There's one lock of hair that's longer than the others," he explained. "So I decided to braid it. I think it suits you."

Hannah glanced back at the man and gave him a warm and thankful smile. _"Merci beaucoup,_ Marquis of Phantomhive."

Hannah had been offered a position at the marquis's manor that day, which she happily accepted. She moved in immediately, learning her duties by watching the older maids at the estate. She was given a maid uniform that was far more respectable than the rags she had once wore. Last, but certainly not least, Hannah was able to brush her hair every morning and evening.

And even as the years passed, the one braid in her hair still remained.

* * *

 

The night Marquise of Phantomhive gave birth to her first and only child had been a strenuous one.

Maids had been sprinting through the hallways in a frenzy, exchanging damp cloths and hurrying to comfort the soon-to-be mother as much as they could.

Loud groans echoed through the halls and the marquis struggled to help his wife, (considering this was his first time experiencing the setting of childbirth and he was clueless as to what to do.)

Hannah rushed into the room quickly, a dripping piece of fabric resting in her hands. "Here's another damp cloth, Ma'am."

Hannah gently peeled the already lukewarm cloth off of the marquise's forehead before replacing it with the one she held.

"Hannah," Marquise Phantomhive gasped, her face slightly scrunching in agony. "I think it's coming."

"What?" Hannah gasped, her young face turning pale. "I-I'll go get Angela…"

"There's no time," she breathed, grasping her husband in one hand and clutching onto the blanket beneath her with the other. "You'll have to deliver it."

"What?! M-Ma'am, I don't have the capability of-"

"Hannah, please," the marquis begged, holding onto his wife's hand lovingly. "We don't have any other option."

Hannah took a deep breath and nodded. It had been years since she had witnessed a mother giving birth, and the once vivid memory was now quite vague. However, the Phantomhive's had given her a home at a young age and she considered them to be her family, so she would do anything to help the marquise through her delivery.

The woman's groans grew louder and Hannah took another nervous breath as she slowly and carefully pushed the marquise's dress up, crumpling the fabric until it touched her stomach.

Hannah laid a shaky hand on the marquise's thigh, gently touching her smooth skin. "Push."

The marquise let out another wail and she threw her head back, her grip on her husband and the blanket tightening greatly.

"Rachel? Rachel?" The marquis panicked, desperately trying to soothe his wife. "Hannah, what's wrong with her?"

"This is a dreadfully painful process, Sir," Hannah answered, giving another encouraging squeeze to the marquise's thigh. "But I can promise a superlative outcome."

Marquis Phantomhive regretfully tried to calm down as his wife twisted and writhed in every which way, yowling and screeching.

"Push a little harder, Marquise," Hannah instructed, and the marquise let out another whine as she desperately tried to push and ignore the pain.

"I can see it," Hannah announced excitedly, leaning closer in. "It's coming! Keep pushing!"

Marquis of Phantomhive watched in awe as the baby came into view, slowly sliding into Hannah's arms as his wife continued to force the child out.

"Alright," Hannah said quietly, grabbing a small blanket off of the bed and wrapping the baby in the fabric. "You're done."

The marquise sighed and let out exasperated breaths. "H-how is my child?"

"Perfect," Hannah whispered, cradling the baby close to her. "It's a boy."

"A boy?" Marquis Phantomhive asked in surprise. "The needle foretold a girl."

Hannah glanced at the marquis. "It's a boy. And he's absolutely flawless."

"What should we name him?" The marquis questioned, looking to his panting wife.

She took a few more breaths before she gazed up at him and smiled. "Ciel. Ciel Phantomhive."

"I like it," he commented. "What do you think, Hannah?"

"I love it," Hannah said with a beam, staring down at the newborn she held. "Little Ciel."

The couple watched their maid in joy as the youthful woman playfully prodded the baby with her index finger, running the digit up and down his tiny arm.

Hannah's finger slightly touched Ciel's palm and his fingers immediately curled around it, grasping onto her and unwilling to let go.

_He feels me,_ Hannah thought, a warm, happy tear trailing down her cheek. _I love him already. I'll do anything to ensure that this child has a perfect life. I vow to protect you as if you were my own, little Ciel._

For once in her life, Hannah felt valuable. Someone in this world now needed her guidance, her care, her love. Though Hannah was aware that Ciel needed her, she also knew that she needed Ciel.

* * *

 

The maid raised the young noble throughout his whole childhood, substituting for his two parents that hardly ever had time to be there.

She taught him his letters, his numbers, how to read and write and his impeccable manners. Hannah was always there for Ciel, and, surprisingly, Ciel was always there for Hannah.

The two were more like best friends than master and servant. Whenever Ciel got in trouble, Hannah came to the rescue. Whenever Hannah was blamed for an accident, Ciel quickly made up an excuse for her. They were an unbeatable duo that constantly had each others' backs.

Ciel rapidly grew into an impressive gentlemen, wooing all of the young ladies with his schmoozing chatter yet staying true to himself when he would enter Hannah's room at night voluntarily, combing her hair for her until he was sure that it was softer than silk and no tangles remained.

The boy would be a naturally perfect husband, and he was sure to rule Marquis of Phantomhive's place with a kind heart but a piquant mind.

That is, of course, until they considered him to be too feminine-like.

The decision had enraged Hannah completely. Ciel was born a boy and he would always be a boy, no matter his size and features. But that wasn't her choice to make, and apparently since Ciel seemed too polite and too fragile for a male, he would be forced to marry another noble against his will and live the life of a housewife.

From the moment they decided Ciel's fate to the present day, Hannah abhorred the idea of that boy, whom she loved like her own son, having his life controlled by someone other than himself.

And as she stood in the back of the church watching him sing with his appalling fiancé by his side, she couldn't hate the verdict more.

* * *

 

_"Eternal father, strong to save, whose arm hath bound the restless wave. Who bidd'st the mighty ocean deep, it's own appointed limits keep."_

"You sing beautifully," William whispered in Ciel's ear, making the boy frown deeply.

"Don't you know that it's rude to speak during a hymn?"

"Don't you know that it's intolerable to disparage your fiancé?"

Ciel's frown intensified and he returned his focus to the hymn.

_"O Trinity of love and power, our brethren shield in danger's hour. From rock and tempest, fire and foe, protect them wheresoe'er they go. Thus evermore shall rise to Thee, glad hymns of praise from land and sea."_

Ciel unenthusiastically linked his arm with his fiancé's as they gracefully walked down the stone stairs outside of the church, Hannah trailing behind the two while they were behind Ciel's parents.

"What a wonderful congregation," Marquise of Phantomhive commented as they gathered together at the bottom of the stairs.

"I couldn't agree more," William smirked, giving Ciel's arm a squeeze. "Did you enjoy it, Darling?"

"Of course, _Darling."_

Hannah gave a silent snort and Ciel flicked his eyes in her direction, a tiny, mischievous smile dancing across his lips.

_At least someone understands._

"Shall we all head back to the manor for tea?" Marquis Phantomhive suggested, but before Ciel could take a step forward William held him still.

"I'm afraid Ciel and I have some shopping to do," William said with an apologetic smile. "We'll catch up with you afterwards."

The marquise nodded. "Of course. Come, Hannah."

The maid penitently followed Ciel's parents, leaving the boy alone with his fiancé.

_This day will be extremely unpleasant._

* * *

 

"Sebastian! Damn it, you bastard! Wait up!"

"Come on, Bard!" Sebastian hollered behind him, his hair whisking in the breeze as he sprinted. "I know you can run faster than that!"

"Your legs are longer than mine!" Bard protested, barely stumbling as he tried to keep up with his companion.

"You'll make me late for work if you get any slower! Then Mr. Midford will _really_ be angry!"

The two males prolonged their hurried dash, Sebastian staying ahead of his friend the entire journey.

"Damn," Bard gasped when they finally made it to the market. "I didn't know you could run so fast."

Sebastian chuckled and brushed his long bangs out of his face, the hair coated with a thin stratum of sweat. "I steal from Mr. Midford regularly so I get plenty of practice."

His friend flashed him a crooked grin and he dug into his ripped-up trousers. "By the way, here's your beaker of potassium ideeda."

_"Iodide,"_ Sebastian reminded, taking the beaker from Bard. "You really should work on your pronunciation."

"Psh, that glop is for rich kids. So what do we do?"

"We'll take this mystery substance," Sebastian began, taking the vial of clear liquid out of his trousers. "And then we'll add the shavings of soap in. Lastly, we'll pour the potassium iodide into the mixture of liquid and soap."

"Then we'll see the reaction?" Bard asked, and Sebastian nodded.

"Then we'll see the reaction."

"Well, no time like the present, right?" Bard said, his goofy smirk appearing once more. "Let's fire this baby up!"

Sebastian smiled. "Alright, let's begin."

* * *

 

"We should have white flowers at the wedding. Don't you agree, Darling?"

"Mhm."

"And the set up should be white, as well."

"Mhm."

"Perhaps everything should be white. It will emphasize the purity of the ceremony."

"Mhm."

Ciel sighed as he walked with his fiancé, his arm starting to go numb from holding onto the man.

"You seem to have grown quiet."

"Mhm."

"Ciel," William hissed. "Socialize with me."

"Fine," Ciel spat. "You've had a deceased insect stuck to the outside of your spectacles for quite some time."

William's mouth fell open and he quickly removed his glasses, hastily breathing on the lenses and wiping them with a handkerchief.

Ciel sighed from the gesture and glanced around. "So why are we going to the market?"

William cleared his throat and slipped his glasses back on after deeming them immaculate. "You'll need to keep your figure if you're planning on marrying me, and I've noticed that there aren't many healthy alternatives in your household."

"I'm underweight!" Ciel argued.

"Precisely. We wouldn't want that to change, would we? I certainly couldn't put up with a pudgy housewife that's out of breath as soon as she takes a single step."

Ciel's face was reddened with rage and he clenched his fists until his knuckles resembled snow.

_How dare this man believe that he can mold the way I look! And he referred to me as a woman!_

The infuriated boy and his censorious fiancé strolled through the town in silence, finally approaching the market within a few minutes.

_I swear, if they really believe that I'll marry this conceited bast-_

Ciel's thoughts were interrupted when he felt a smack on the side of his head, and his eyesight was blinded.

* * *

 

"Right, so we'll dump the soap flakes into this clear liquid," Sebastian explained, dropping the soap into the substance.

"This isn't too exciting, Sebastian," Bard yawned.

"It's coming, I promise," Sebastian assured. "Now, we take the potassium iodide and pour it into this mixture."

"Are you sure this is safe?" Bard asked, wary of the concoction exploding.

"I guess we'll find out," Sebastian said, and he quickly spilled the potassium iodide into the mixture.

Steaming foam instantly shot out of the beaker, spurting uncontrollably.

"Cover your eyes!" Sebastian warned. "This may be toxic!"

Soon enough, the expansion of the foam slowed, and it eventually sat still in the vial.

"Wow," Bard prattled. "That was awesome!"

"It was pretty interesting, wasn't it?" Sebastian mused with an achieved grin, but the smile faded quickly.

"Uh oh."

"What is it?" Bard quizzed, but he answered his own question once he saw that their experiment had gone way out of hand, and onto the face of a noble.

* * *

 

"Hannah," Ciel chirped as he crawled into bed. "Tell me a bedtime story."

"Tonight?" Hannah asked, collapsing in the chair that sat next to the boy's bed. "Aren't you tired from playing all day?"

"I am," Ciel admitted, pulling his covers over his small body. "But I can't sleep without a story. And tell me a new one, not the one about the old lady who lives in a shoe."

"But why not?" Hannah whined. "That one is a classic."

"It gets old. Please, Hannah? Please tell me a bedtime story?"

"Alright, fine," Hannah succumbed. "But you have to lie down fully."

"Yay!" Ciel plopped his head down on his pillow, wriggling under the covers until he was comfortable.

"Once upon a time, there lived _un petit roi."_

"What was his name?" Ciel inquired.

"His name was Ciel," Hannah answered, Ciel giggling at the response. "And Ciel was flawless in every way possible. _Un jour,_ Ciel decided to hold a resplendent party."

"What was the party like?"

"Ciel was a very playful person, so the party involved masks and frivolous costumes, though he had a grandiose outfit that outshone them all. During the party, Ciel danced and chatted with many of his guests, all of which were wearing masks. The only way he could distinguish the guests was by their eyes."

"That doesn't sound like a simple task," Ciel pointed out, and Hannah nodded in agreement.

"It wasn't, and many of the eyes appeared to be identical. However, even though Ciel confronted and greeted many people, one person stood out to him."

"But wasn't he wearing a mask?"

"He was."

"Then how did he stand out?"

"His _eyes,"_ Hannah reminded. "Like I mentioned before, the only way he could recognize his guests were by their eyes."

"But eyes don't stand out, Hannah," Ciel argued. "How could he remember that one person out of dozens of different pairs of eyes?"

"Because those eyes were different from all of the others."

"They were different?"

"Yes."

"Were they huge?"

"No."

"Were they tiny?"

"No."

"Did they have designs in them?"

"No."

"Then how were they different?"

Hannah smiled at the inquisitiveness and she leaned in close to whisper the answer. "They were different because they only focused on Ciel."

Ciel blinked in confusion. "So? What does that mean?"

"There is one and only one sure way to determine if someone is in love. If you look at their eyes, and they seem to be focused on only one thing, and they never want to stop gazing at that thing, then their feelings are true."

"Okay," Ciel started. "So the difference was… that he was in love with Ciel?"

"Yes, and that's how Ciel remembered him, because of that distinctive, loving stare that he had locked eyes with for maybe only a moment."

"Is that another one of your fairytales, Hannah?"

Hannah chuckled. "It could be. Along with the distinctive 'love stare,' it always depends on the angle you look at it."

* * *

 

"What is this shit?!" Ciel screamed effusively, wiping his eyes with his hands.

_Foam?_ Ciel wondered. _Why the hell is there foam on me?!_

"That's repulsive," William remarked bluntly.

"I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry! Forgive me!"

The two nobles glanced to their right to see two peasants running toward them, their expressions one of shame and embarrassment.

Though Ciel's vision was obscured, he could somewhat observe their exterior. One had black hair that was whipping wildly as he ran, his bangs seemed to be cut messily. He wore a loose white shirt with brown suspenders and brown trousers that had been patched in a few places. The latter had blond hair and a similar white shirt, the only variance being the extra tears in the material and he wore no suspenders. His trousers were equally ripped and torn and they only stretched down to his knee, exposing the remainder of his legs.

"I'm so sorry," the black-haired one breathed as they came near. "I honestly didn't mean to-"

He stopped talking once he noticed Ciel, and Ciel froze in place, as well. The two males locked gazes and time seemed to disappear.

_Oh my god,_ Ciel gasped in his head, his expression turning into one of surprise as he stared at the peasant.

_It's those eyes._

* * *

 

**Assiettes - Plates**

**Un plateau - A platter/tray**

**J'ai faim - I'm hungry**

**Merci beaucoup - Thank you very much**

**Un petit roi - A little king**

**Un jour - One day**

**"À la claire fontaine" - "By the clear fountain" a traditional French song about a lost love.**


	4. Diary Entry #214 Continued

Hours seemed to pass by. Years seemed to pass by. Centuries upon centuries flew past in a matter of measly seconds.

The peasant and the noble had been staring into each other's eyes for only a few moments, barely enough time for their hearts to pulse a simple beat, but perhaps that was because their hearts weren't beating.

The two antitheses were ultimately paralyzed.

"Don't you have anything to say, vagrant?" William spat, his words as vicious as venom.

"Oh, I-I'm sorry," the black-haired peasant panicked, breaking the gaze to acknowledge Ciel's indignant fiancé.

"That's it? You enshroud my fiancé in vaporous _déchets_ and all you respond with is 'sorry?'"

The young man blinked. "F-fiancé?"

"Yes, _fiancé!"_ William screamed, his glasses slightly sliding down his nose. "What is it to some indigent like you?!"

"William," Ciel began, gently placing his hand on the noble's arm. "He meant no harm."

"You're _defending him?!"_ William shrieked, his cheeks turning red from rage. "He should be killed!"

"Please, Sir!" The black-haired peasant begged, his eyes pleading desperately. "I swear I meant no harm."

"He didn't," the blond-haired man insisted, finally making his presence known. "We were just-"

"Silence yourselves!" William ordered, and the two men instantly became quiet, obviously cowering in fear from the malcontent noble.

"William," Ciel said softly, lightly wiping more foam off of his cheekbone. "We should head back to the manor. Marquise will wonder what's taking us so long and I'd like to change into fresh linens."

William sighed in irritation, nevertheless he readjusted his glasses onto the bridge of his nose and linked his arm with Ciel's once again. "Very well."

Ciel gave a silent breath of relief when William reluctantly turned his back to the two peasants, silent as he and Ciel began to walk away. Ciel took one more quick glance behind him, noting how the black-haired man was staring after them.

_Hannah wasn't telling a fairytale,_ Ciel thought, turning his focus back to the path in front of him. _I know what I saw. Those eyes were recognizable._

* * *

 

**Diary Entry #217**

* * *

 

"Ciel," Alois whispered, prodding his friend's shoulder with his index finger. "You are coming to my wedding in three days, right?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Ciel asked in an equally quiet tone.

"I don't know," Alois giggled, Ciel rolling his eyes at the blond's callowness.

"Lord Trancy, Lord Phantomhive."

Upon hearing their names spoken, both boys immediately stood from their seats, switching their focus on the large wooden doors that were now open, revealing a familiar figure in the doorway.

"Father Ash," the two greeted, Ciel's back stiffening ever so slightly.

"You may be seated," the white-haired man declared, entering the church just as the two doors shut behind him.

Father Ash was presumably the most respected man around. He was the leader of the church and he led with a firm stance, his leadership usually not very forgiving of sins nor the committers. Father Ash lived and breathed by his strive for purity, that being his only purpose in life.

"Are you prepared for our lesson today?"

"Yes, Father."

"Then say the chant together, after that we will begin."

Ciel grit his teeth and clenched his fists in anger as he and Alois stated the chant together, something he despised more than anything.

_"Homosexuality is a sin in the eyes of God. However, we, our very existence, is a sin to God, for we are marked with traits of the opposite sex. Therefore, we were born as sins, and allowing another of the same sex to control us, defile us, will be our punishment for perturbing God."_

"Very good," Father Ash said with a nod. "Now we will begin."

Ciel's nails dug further and further into the flesh on his palm, slicing into his pale skin sharply.

This was wrong. _He_ was wrong. Father Ash had no right to make the two boys state their incompetence of living as males. It was the others who decided their fate, not them. Why did they have to call themselves sins when it was their families that made the choice?

"Who can tell me where we left off last _Dimanche?"_

"We were discussing future plans, Sir," Alois answered. "Our futures with our husbands."

"Ah yes, 'future plans.'"

Ciel narrowed his eyes, his patience already wearing. Every _Dimanche,_ Ciel and Alois were expected to attend private lessons with Father Ash, where they were supposed to learn how to live as newly becoming housewives and how to treat their husbands accordingly. Of course, Father Ash had his opinion of the two boys, and so, at least in Ciel's perspective, the lessons never went particularly well.

"Lord Trancy, your wedding is actually in three days, is it not?"

Alois gulped nervously. "That is correct, Father."

"I see," Father Ash murmured, his eyes floating over to Ciel. "And you, Lord Phantomhive?"

"I wouldn't know."

Father Ash's eyes widened and he raised an eyebrow. "You wouldn't know?"

Ciel crossed his legs casually, leaning his head against his hand as he spoke. "The Duke of Brittany has arrived very recently. I'm afraid he's not used to this change in scenery quite yet."

"And you aren't helping him adjust like a proper bride should?"

Ciel cut his eyes toward the white-haired priest, glaring daggers that could practically cleave through his skin, ripping tendons and perhaps splintering bones. "He is not ready. What part of that did you not understand?"

Alois bit his lip apprehensively as he watched his best friend and the religious leader duel with their gazes, competitively trying to strike fear into each other's souls.

"Fine then," Father Ash concluded fiercely. "Let us finally begin our lesson."

Alois stole a glance at Ciel and observed that he was now smiling, proud that he was victorious in the callous staring.

"Since Lord Trancy will be married in a few days and Lord Phantomhive will be married _soon,_ I find it's only appropriate to continue discussing your futures."

Ciel's smile faded away and was replaced by his disgusted scowl once more. _Not this drivel again._

"I suppose you two haven't a clue about what's to happen on the wedding night and the day after."

Alois slightly jolted in surprise as did Ciel, whom was now more interested and he curiously lifted an eyebrow. "What are you saying?"

Father Ash smirked darkly and he gave a quiet snicker. "So you really don't know? Then I believe it's my duty to inform you two brides as to what will happen. On the wedding night you both _will_ fall backward. And you will not hesitate."

Alois's innocent face lit up in red and Ciel's cheeks dared to show pink as Father Ash continued, his grin widening from their unequivocal physical responses.

"Then, on the day after the wedding, he will leave you for an entire day and night."

"What do you mean 'leave us?' Claude would never leave me..." Alois denied quietly, but the priest shook his head.

"Oh, but he will. You see, reproducing is the reason marriages are essential, and that is why many get started immediately on their wedding night. You two, however, are special cases, because since you are sins and have no choice but to marry someone of the same sex, you cannot reproduce."

Ciel and Alois both glanced each other, aware that neither were looking forward to hearing what Father Ash was about to say next.

"That is why, on the day after the wedding, your husbands will leave you so they can be with women."

Alois's mouth fell open. "You mean...?"

Father Ash's sinister smile grew and he nodded. "Yes. They will have sexual intercourse with any woman of their choice, guaranteeing them a child in the end so their marriage to you two won't be nonsensical. Depending on how many children your husbands want, they can continue to copulate with however many women they want, and it does not have to be the same woman every time."

"Claude's going to have sexual intercourse with someone other than me? His fiancé?" Alois cried. "I don't want that to happen! He's supposed to be _my_ fiancé!"

"Lord Trancy!" Father Ash exclaimed. "You will not, under any circumstances refer to your fiancé by his first name. He has the power over you, not contrariwise, hence he is not _your_ fiancé, rather you are solely _his."_

Alois kept quiet but his eyes shone with sadness, obviously upset with the knowledge that the Duke of Marche would be sleeping with someone other than himself. Ciel felt likewise, and though he was equally upset, it wasn't for the same reason. Ciel strongly believed in monogamy, and he'd be damned if he was going to let the Duke of Brittany desecrate that belief by possessing dozens of whores, all hidden in secrecy to then come home and demand the same sexual attention from Ciel. Whether the duke planned on having one whore or many, the very thought of sharing the same closeness was absolutely _repugnant._

_Besides,_ Ciel thought, staring at the ground in deep concentration and letting his mind wander to the peasant that had been plaguing his thoughts for the past three days. _No matter what the Duke of Brittany does, he'll never have those eyes._

* * *

 

"And I don't know what to do, y'know? Like she's good lookin' and all, but I told her, 'if you plan on messin' around with other men, then this just won't work.' I think she took the bait, though. She told me to meet her by the well tonight so that has to mean something, right? Right? Aye, Sebastian, you hear me?"

Sebastian blinked twice before he shook his head, clearing his congested mind. "I'm sorry, who messed around with men in a well?"

Bard tsked. "You're still thinking about what happened with that noble, aren't you?"

A tiny blush rose in Sebastian's cheeks and he shook his head once more, this time in denial. "No, I wasn't. I just misunderstood what you said."

"Sebastian, get over it," Bard said, slapping his friend's shoulder lightly. "It's not like you're getting the guillotine."

"It's not that," Sebastian argued, running his fingers through his disheveled bangs. "There was something about him..."

"About who? The _fils a puitan_ that was close to cutting your throat?"

"No, not him. The one that got covered in my experiment," Sebastian answered grimly.

"Oh, you mean the tinier one with the oddly colored hair? What about him?"

"Did you hear what the noir-haired gentleman said? He called the tinier boy his fiancé."

"I've heard of that before."

Sebastian's eyebrows raised. "You have?"

Bard nodded. "Yeah. My mum once told me a story about noble boys who seemed more feminine than masculine, so they were forced to marry another male noble. I always thought she was foolin' me, but I guess she really was telling the truth."

Sebastian frowned. His mother raised him to be faithful to God and Sebastian complied. Even after his mother's death when he was still a young boy, Sebastian continued to go to the center of the slums every _Dimanche_ and listen to the teachings of Father Tanaka, who would certainly be against males marrying other males, regardless of their traits.

"I must discuss this with Father Tanaka," Sebastian decided aloud, dusting off his trousers and adjusting his suspenders.

"What good will that do?" Bard asked. "Why does this noble matter, anyway? They're all fustilarians."

"No," Sebastian said quietly. "Not this one."

* * *

 

_"Je voit l'eau."_

Hannah glanced around and pointed. _"La fontaine?"_

Ciel nodded. _"Oui."_

_"Oui..."_ Hannah began, taking a quick look at her surroundings. _"Je voit vert."_

Ciel bit his lip and gazed around. _"Vert?"_

_"Oui."_

_"Terre?"_ Ciel guessed, but Hannah shook her head.

_"Non, mais il est par terre."_

Ciel took a few more glances around the garden before he sighed in defeat. _"Je ne sais pas."_

Hannah smiled and leaned closer to the boy, pointing her finger and gesturing for his eyes to look in the direction. _"Il est un arbre."_

Ciel frowned slightly and he glanced at the maid, his blue eyes shining in their caliginous demeanor. "Hannah, I'd like to ask you something."

Hannah's smile slowly faded until it was scantily palpable. "What is it, Ciel?"

"Do you remember that story you told me when I was younger?"

"I told you many stories while you were young; I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific."

"The one about a little king named after me," Ciel described quietly. "Where I could only recognize one person based on his eyes."

"I do remember that one," Hannah verified. "You seemed to contemplate that story quite often."

"But was it really a story? Was that purely a whimsical fairytale you created within moments?"

"If I may answer your inquiry with another question, what is the purpose of you asking me this?"

Ciel's eyes shifted to the ground. "There is no purpose. I was only curious."

"Ciel," Hannah said in stern tone, and the boy sighed once more in capitulation.

"I met someone."

Hannah blinked."I beg your pardon, Lord?"

Ciel ground his teeth together as he forced himself to repeat his confession. "I met someone."

The maid was silent for a few seconds before she gave a light chuckle."You'll meet plenty of people in your lifetime, Ciel. It's nothing to fret over."

"You're not comprehending, Hannah!" Ciel snapped.

The woman slightly recoiled from the small outburst and she swallowed. "What am I not understanding, Ciel?"

"I didn't mean to bite," Ciel apologised quickly. "I met someone -- a man -- and I felt something. I feel as though he had those eyes you once told me about."

_"Mon dieu,_ Ciel!" Hannah exclaimed before she lowered her voice to a whisper. "You are _engaged."_

"You detest him as much as I do, Hannah! You're the one that said I didn't deserve this life!"

"Yes, but that doesn't mean you should run around looking for other men!" Hannah argued in her raspy whisper. "Besides, who could you have possibly met?"

Ciel gulped nervously. "D-do you remember that evening I came home smothered in that peculiar muck? A-and Marquise almost had a fit over it?"

"You told us a peasant had accidentally lost control of the foam," Hannah pointed out, and Ciel bit his lip as she slowly understood the hidden meaning.

"No," she breathed in disbelief. "No, Ciel, you don't actually think that a _peasant_ had those eyes for you?"

"You were a peasant once," Ciel stated firmly. "You used to wear rags and tatters. Your hair was knotted and fried, your innocent eyes filled with the longing of a better life, isn't that right, Hannah?"

The maid nodded, her blue irises sparkling with fresh tears. "Yes, that is correct, Lord."

"You were pitiful!" Ciel spat harshly, the remark causing Hannah to shed a solid tear. "But," he began, his voice softer. "My father still took a liking to you. Even though you had knotted hair and soiled clothes with pleading eyes and a history of poverty, he became attached from the moment he saw you. That is why I no longer underestimate the value of anyone, whether they be rich or poor."

Hannah sobbed quietly and blotted her cheeks before speaking. "You're certainly much more accepting than I am, Lord Phantomhive. I suppose that is why you're of nobility. I'd like to thank you for being such a kind, generous soul."

Ciel gave Hannah a small smile. "I think of you as my mother, Miss Anafeloz. You practically raised me and you were there more often than my parents. Therefore, I'd like for you to be accepting of my decisions, and I'd like to know that you'll be by my side and aid me if my decisions ever spark consequences."

Hannah beamed and she curtsied in honor. "I consider you my own child, Ciel. And I promise whatever you choose, I will be there for you forever."

* * *

 

Father Tanaka -- who should contrarily be referred to simply as "Tanaka" -- was certainly _not_ a member of the clergy, and he wasn't a member of the church at all.

Only the nobles obtained the right to attend mass, and a peasant wouldn't be allowed to simply pray in front of a church, let alone inside one. That is why Tanaka, an elderly peasant who had spent his entire life wishing to pray in the presence of a clergyman, decided that even the third estate deserved to have some sort of mass.

So Tanaka took his Bible, and he began preaching in the center of the slums, gaining popularity and admirance almost immediately. He then soon acquired the name "Father" Tanaka, which most peasants referred to him now that they had a religious leader in their lives.

Sebastian had listened to Father Tanaka every Sunday for years now, but he never had spoken to the man. And presently, as Sebastian approached the religious leader, he was honored, yet somewhat nervous while he pondered the response he might receive after confessing his slight interest in a noble.

"Father," Sebastian said respectfully, kneeling on one knee and bowing his head.

The old man turned around to acknowledge him and he smiled down at the lad. "You look familiar, son."

Sebastian raised his head and nodded. "Yes, Sir. I have attended every one of your public preachings since I was a young boy."

"Oh you have, have you? What is your name? And do please rise from your knees; I'm no one special."

"You are special in my eyes, Father Tanaka," Sebastian stated as he stood to his feet. "My name is Sebastian Michaelis. I am here to ask you about the nobles."

Tanaka frowned and he narrowed his eyes. "The nobles? Why would you wonder about such conceited filth?"

"My friend has told me something rather odd about their customs, and I'd like you to confirm the information."

"Go on."

Sebastian licked his lips uneasily. "Is it true that when a noble man has characteristics of a woman he is forced to marry another man?"

"That is true."

"And the clergy allows this?"

"They do."

"Isn't that wrong?" Sebastian exclaimed. "The clergy is supposed to be the savior of all and the teachers for God, yet they permit homosexuality as if it were accepted?"

"This world is full of complications, Sebastian," Father Tanaka said grimly. "It is not a sin for the nobles to marry the same sex, but being a peasant is a sin itself, or so they say. No matter who is preaching nor what they preach, religion is an unclear thing nowadays."

Sebastian frowned and he silently knelt on the ground once more. Tanaka glanced at him in question and Sebastian bowed his head again, too ashamed to show his eyes.

"Forgive me, Father."

Tanaka raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about, boy?"

"I have soiled a noble's clothing and upset his fiancé, and yes, that noble was a _he._ He's a tiny boy with fragile features, eyes that glow as luminescent as the moon and a smile that could outshine the sun. His hair has a thorough gleam, as if someone spent hours painting it with gloss. When I first saw him I could not speak, for there were no words to describe what I felt at that exact moment."

Sebastian stood from his knees and Tanaka's eyes widened, unsure of what he was about to say next.

"And all these words I used to describe him, Father, are full of pure admiration," Sebastian continued. "I fear I may have feelings for him -- a noble -- of the same sex, which you believe is wrong. So I ask for your forgiveness, Father, for I am sinning, and I'm not sorry for it."

* * *

 

"My lord," Hannah spoke softly as she opened the door. "You are expected in the dining room in twenty minutes."

Ciel continued to stare solemnly out the window, viewing the garden with his melancholy eyes. "Thank you, Hannah."

"Oh dear, what's wrong?" The maid inquired, entering the room and closing the door behind her. "You've been at your window for quite a long time now."

"Life isn't a fairytale, Hannah, and I'm definitely not an eager child that's willing to wish for one. But if I could wish for anything, I'd wish for another life. It wouldn't be a fairytale, but it'd be something, right?"

The concerned maid strode over to Ciel's side and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Nothing comes out of wishing in life, Dear. If you truly want a different life, you must seize the chance to run. That chance is still yours for the taking."

Ciel blinked and turned his head to look into Hannah's eyes. "It is?"

Hannah gave him a tiny smirk. "If you want to see him, there's still time before dinner."

Ciel's mouth opened in a small 'o' and his maid winked.

"I will go fetch your coat, Lord."

* * *

 

Sebastian kept his face blank as he took the bunch of apples in his hand and slowly piled them into the wooden crate, arranging them neatly in the box. Luckily, Mr. Midford hadn't noticed his absence while he had been out visiting Father Tanaka, and he only had a few hours left before he could leave the market and trek home to his bed of straw that would provide him with a good night's sleep.

Dusk was apparent and soon the sun would be setting, requiring Sebastian to walk home in the dark like he had for years. When he was a child, he hated walking home alone in the dark, but now he realized that the true monsters come out not only during the night but during the day, as well.

A cool breeze whistled through the air and Sebastian shivered, his thin white shirt hardly keeping him warm. Nights had been growing colder and even if Sebastian stayed in motion he still seemed to get chilled to the bone.

And maybe the cold wasn't the entire reason why Sebastian was on edge. Ever since he had come in contact with that noble, his whole world seemed to flip upside down. He couldn't think straight, work efficiently, and whenever Bard would go off about some girl that had denied him, Sebastian's mind would float back to the young magnate.

"Excuse me."

"I'm afraid we'll be closing soon," Sebastian informed, not bothering to look up from the apples he balanced in his arms.

"That's a shame. Perhaps you could look up at me?"

"I'm working," Sebastian said snippily.

"Ah, so this is what you do when you're not making exploding foam."

Sebastian froze and he leisurely lifted his head, his eyes shifting to the familiar boy.

The noble cracked a grin and he tipped his top hat in a greeting. "Bonjour."

* * *

**I had someone ask me a while back if I really spoke French or if I used a translator, and I can assure you that I DO speak French. So I decided to add a few simple sentences in this chapter, not too complex where it frustrates you but just enough to add some pizzazz to the story.**

**Déchets - Waste/Rubbish**

**Dimanche - Sunday**

**Fils a puitan - Son of a prostitute**

_**Hannah and Ciel's conversation (pretty much a game of I-spy):** _

**Je voit l'eau - I see water**

**La fontaine? - The fountain?**

**Oui - Yes**

**Oui... Je voit vert - Yes... I see green**

**Vert? - Green?**

**Oui - Yes**

**Terre? - Land/Earth?**

**Non, mais il est par terre - No, but it is on the ground**

**Je ne sais pas - I don't know**

**Il est un arbre - It is a tree**

**Mon dieu - My god**


	5. Diary Entry #217 Continued

Sebastian's heart leapt to his throat; he was obviously taken aback from the unanticipated visitor. "W-why are you here?"

The noble's smile dropped into a look of blankness and he blinked. "Why am I here? Perhaps I came for an apology?"

"Oh! I-I'm sorry!" Sebastian panicked, releasing the apples he held on accident. The red fruits tumbled to the ground, leaving the peasant's face rubicund with discomfiture.

"You're quite clumsy," the noble remarked, bending over to pick up one of the ripe fruits from the ground. "Then again, I already knew that."

Sebastian slumped to his knees and quickly snatched the remainder of the apples, his face still sweltering from his mortification. "I-I apologize again. I didn't mean to be so maladroit."

The noble didn't reply, instead he busied himself with shining his apple against his expensive coat while Sebastian rose to his feet.

"So what's your name?"

Sebastian blinked. "M-my name?"

"Yes, your name," the noble chuckled, checking the apple briefly before he began shining it again. "Unless you'd rather not say?"

Sebastian blushed and he kept his eyes down, steadily stacking the apples in the crate. "I'm Sebastian Michaelis, third estate."

The noble paused and he glanced at Sebastian. "Was mentioning the third estate necessary?"

"Completely," Sebastian muttered, rolling his eyes. "It's not every day that I meet royalty."

"I'll ignore the sarcasm, for I'm not royalty and I'd prefer that you not refer to me as such."

_He's not displaying superciliousness?_ Sebastian wondered. _What kind of aristocrat is he?_

"I have a confession," the noble murmured, staring at the apple he held in his hands. "I didn't come here for an apology, nor did I come for an apple."

Sebastian set the last apple he held down in the crate before looking back up at the noble. "How may I be of service, then, Lordship?"

Cerulean eyes shifted upwards in regard to the peasant, making said peasant quiver slightly with nervousness. "Ciel. Ciel Phantomhive. Please call me that from now on."

Sebastian gave him a curt nod. "As you wish, Lord Phan-"

"Ciel."

"As you wish, _Ciel,"_ Sebastian corrected.

Ciel smiled and extended his arm toward the black-haired man, the fruit in his palm. "Here."

"Thank you," Sebastian said quietly, taking the glossy apple from the noble's hand.

Ciel became anxious when he noticed that the sky had darkened almost completely, the moon being the only source of light.

"Is something wrong, Ciel?"

Ciel chewed on his lip. "It's gotten dark."

"Are you afraid of the dark?"

"N-no!" Ciel stammered, his cheeks becoming pink. "It'll just be harder to find my way home."

"You don't need to be ashamed," Sebastian assured. "I don't like walking home in the dark either. I've had to do it every night since I was a young boy."

"Really?" Ciel asked with slight hopefulness, and Sebastian nodded.

"Yeah. It can be subtly frightening when you hear sounds and you know you're all alone."

"What do you do when you get scared?"

Sebastian smiled sincerely. "I think. I think about cheerful moments and I try to remember happy memories that I've experienced in my life. I think about the people I love the most and the people I've helped throughout the years. Then, after realizing that there are many more happy memories to come, I don't feel so bad anymore. In fact, I feel better than before."

"I'm not sure I'd be capable of doing that," Ciel muttered.

"It's hard at first," Sebastian agreed. "But eventually you learn that there's nothing to worry about. Give it a try on your way home tonight."

"I will," Ciel said. "Thank you."

"Have a good night, Ciel," Sebastian stated, giving the boy a small wave before his eyes returned to the crates on the ground.

Ciel nodded and turned his back to the peasant, ready to begin his journey home. He only made it five steps, however, before he automatically felt timid.

"S-Sebastian?"

Sebastian raised his eyes. "Yes?"

Ciel nudged his shoe in the dirt shyly. "W-will you walk me home?"

* * *

 

Alois sighed in tranquility as he sank down in the warm water, relaxation overwhelming him.

"Claaaude," he sang, a mischievous smile dancing across his lips. "Why don't you come join me? The door's open."

"I'd rather not," a harsh voice answered from the bedroom.

"But why not?" Alois whined. "I'm lonely."

"Keep quiet and wash yourself."

"That Claude," Alois whispered to himself, his lips now drooping in a frown. "Always so apathetic."

After Alois's mood took a downfall he decided to abandon his bath, now despondent and uninterested in the warm water that had comforted him earlier.

"Ms. Hopkins is constructing your wedding dress," Claude informed when Alois exited the bathroom. "I told her to make it as formfitting as possible so the contours of your body will be evident."

Alois clutched the austere silk robe that covered his naked body. "Ms. Hopkins? I thought we agreed on a more appropriate tailor, Claude."

"I changed my mind," Claude informed candidly. "I prefer to see you in a more amatory attire other than what looks appropriate."

"Is that all you care about?" Alois cried, squeezing the silk tighter. "Am I here for your sexual desires and nothing more?"

"Speaking of sexual desires," Claude said, choosing to avoid the question. "Remove your robe and lie down on the bed."

"No!" Alois refused. "I am your _fiancé!_ Not some play-thing!"

"Remove it now, Alois," Claude demanded. "Or I'll make you remove it."

Tears filled Alois's eyes and he kept a firm hold on the robe. "You wouldn't dare!"

Within a fraction of a second, Claude grabbed an empty glass vase off of the dresser and pitched it at the blond with extreme vigor.

Alois shrieked as the vase struck his body, the glass shattering immediately from the direct impact. Claude was instantly on top of the boy, wrestling him to the ground until he couldn't move.

"H-help," Alois choked out, unable to breathe correctly with the weight of Claude crushing his body.

"No one can hear you," Claude hissed, grasping Alois's jaw punitively.

"C-Ciel…"

"He can't help you," Claude growled, his grip on Alois's jaw tightening. _"No one_ can help you."

* * *

 

Ciel clasped his stomach, incapable of holding in his immense giggles. "He was genuinely confused?"

"Entirely," Sebastian confirmed, chuckling as well. "In the midst of being eager to see a fabricated magic trick, he was completely unaware of his coat being stolen."

Ciel's giggles died down, yet he continued to laugh slightly. "And he left without realizing that his coat was missing?"

"Yes, he did," Sebastian grinned. "I got a luxurious new coat that day, absolutely gratis."

Ciel shook his head in disbelief. "I usually detest peasants that steal from the upper class, especially since I'm a part of the upper class. But I can laugh in your instance, because he lost his garment out of foolishness."

Sebastian's smile faded into a seemingly ashamed frown. "I don't like stealing. It makes me feel like I'm someone lower than who I really am, and I think many peasants feel the same way. What many nobles and aristocrats don't realize is that we have no choice; if we don't steal, we won't live."

Ciel's entertained expression had also drifted away and he looked down. "I never thought about it like that."

"What, did you think that we steal your belongings for fun?" Sebastian asked with a teasing smirk.

Ciel blushed and his lips curled into a tiny smile. "No, that's not what I thought. I just never considered that stealing would play a role in life or death."

Sebastian's serious demeanor returned as the two males continued to walk side-by-side. "I believe that many of the nobles have the same philosophies as you. Unfortunately, we don't steal for fun, rather to stay alive, and the horrible truth is that no matter how much we steal, many of us still won't survive."

Ciel looked up at the man in puzzlement. "What do you mean?"

"Winter is cruel," Sebastian answered, slightly slowing down so Ciel could keep up with his pace. "The cold weather can be brutally severe. Typically, we're so focused on stealing food to keep from going hungry that we forget about taking things that will keep us alive in the winter, such as clothes. I've seen men, women, even children frozen to death on the streets because they were unable to steal clothing, find shelter, or they simply ran out of time."

Ciel blinked, his eyes wide after hearing the new knowledge. "Do your people really struggle that much, Sebastian?"

Sebastian glanced down at the short noble, and he gave him a sad smile. "Yes. Every day is a struggle for a peasant. Every day we wonder if we'll live, if we'll die. We wonder if we'll be able to attain enough food for the day, and enough water throughout the night. We hope and pray that the weather will stay clement, or that we'll at least have enough warmth to help us last through a storm. It's definitely a struggle, but I find that no matter how hungry, thirsty, or cold I get, in the end I become stronger."

"That's awful," Ciel stated, his eyes sparkling with commiseration. "And for years I deemed the third class merely predacious, when in actuality they only fight to survive."

"I'm glad that you show compassion to a simple indigent, Lord Phantomhive," Sebastian thanked with a polite smirk. "And I believe we've made it to your destination."

Ciel glanced up to see the large front gates that protected the Phantomhive estate, the vast manor resting comfortably behind the bars.

"Thank you for walking me home," Ciel mumbled.

"You're very welcome," Sebastian smirked as he turned away. "Have a wonderful night."

"Wait, Sebastian!"

Sebastian halted and gazed at the boy that still stood in front of the closed gates. "What is it, Lord?"

Ciel fidgeted with his fingers nervously. "Do you have any food waiting for you in your home?"

Sebastian waved his hand casually. "Don't worry about me, Lord. I'm sure I can find a piece of bread somewhere."

"I didn't say I was worried," Ciel began, his anxiety growing. "I only asked because -- well, I…"

Sebastian blinked in confusion as he waited for Ciel to form a sentence. "Go on."

Ciel finally smiled and looked into Sebastian's eyes. "I'd like for you to join me for dinner."

* * *

 

"But where is Ciel?" Marquise Phantomhive whined. "You said he was only taking a stroll, Hannah."

"He is, Lady," Hannah responded.

"But it's nightfall," Marquis of Phantomhive said. "Surely Ciel isn't foolish enough to walk in the dark."

"My presumption is that Miss Anafeloz is lying," William cut in. "Ciel didn't simply wander off in the cool air."

"Forgive me, Duke of Brittany, but Hannah is the most trustworthy servant we have," Marquise disagreed.

"Not trustworthy enough," William continued, ambling over to a window. His eyes widened and he adjusted his glasses when he saw Ciel standing by the front gate with another figure beside him.

William squinted his eyes as he tried to see through the dark, the features of the unknown person slowly coming into view.

_The peasant?_ William wondered, his gaze turning into a malevolent stare. _What is_ he _doing here?_

* * *

 

"Oh, Ciel, you're finally ho-" Marquise Phantomhive paused as the door opened and she saw that her son wasn't alone. "Oh? Who is this?"

Ciel grinned apprehensively. "Mother, Father, _William,_ this is Sebastian Michaelis."

"Is this a friend of yours?" Marquise questioned innocently, obviously still confused.

"He's the peasant that soiled Ciel's raiment," William answered, everyone's attention turning to him. "It's a wonder why Ciel would invite such a nuisance into his home."

"He is not a nuisance," Ciel protested, laying a gentle hand on Sebastian's arm. "Sebastian is a very kind, very decorous gentleman."

"Are you an imbecile?" William shouted. "He covered you in slop!"

"Hush, you two!" Marquise exclaimed. "Don't you know it's rude to argue in front of a guest?"

"A guest?" William gasped.

"Yes, a _guest,"_ Marquise repeated, glaring at William. "And we'll all be on our best behavior. Now, let's find our places at the dining table."

William hesitantly followed Ciel's parents into the dining room, allowing Ciel and Sebastian to finally step inside the manor.

"Are you ready for dinner?" Ciel asked, looking at Sebastian.

Sebastian lowered his head shamefully. "I'm sorry."

"What?"

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I never meant to become a nuisance, nor did I mean to ruin your attire."

"Sebastian, don't fret over such foolish matters," Ciel said soothingly. "No matter what happens, you always become stronger, right?"

Sebastian raised his head and glanced into Ciel's eyes, a confident grin slowly spreading across his lips. "Right."

* * *

 

Ciel remained quiet and nearly motionless as dinner commenced, for he was far too worried that a capricious event was soon to come.

Sebastian sat across from Ciel at the dinner table, his gaze flickering toward the boy once in a while. Next to Ciel sat William, and he kept his suspecting eyes peeled the entire time. Finally, Marquise and Marquis sat at the both ends of the table, where they had the best view of each other and a clear view of everyone else.

"So, Sebastian," Marquise began, a small smile curved in her lips. "What is it you do for a living?"

"He's a peasant," William snorted. "What could he possibly do besides steal?"

"William!" Ciel warned.

"No, no, it's fine," Sebastian assured Ciel with a smile, before shifting his glance to the Marquise. "I work for Alexis Midford, a merchant in the downtown square. Perhaps you've seen me a time or two."

"I may have," Marquise agreed. "Vincent and I shop quite often, don't we, _Amour?"_

"Indeed, we do, _Chère,"_ Marquis Phantomhive nodded. "But surely that can't be your only means of income, Sebastian. You must have another job of some sort."

"You mean like stealing?" William suggested.

"William," Ciel hissed.

"I'm afraid he's right," Sebastian admitted, his cheeks gaining color from embarrassment. "I have had to depend on stealing in the past."

"What a big surprise," William muttered, earning him a glare from Ciel.

"But peasants don't steal as often as you may think," Sebastian continued, his voice hopeful. "None of us steal because we enjoy it, we merely steal because we ha-"

"Stop this nonsense, immediately!" William demanded, standing from his chair and slamming his hand on the table, the dishes clattering from the gesture. "We already know how peasants are, _Sebastian._ They are greedy, filthy, and they have no right to be treated otherwise. So sorry to spoil your unrealistic hope."

With that, William stormed out of the dining room, leaving everyone else in silence.

Ciel bit his lip nervously. "Father, I-"

Marquis of Phantomhive held his hand upright to stop Ciel from continuing. "That's enough, Ciel. That's enough."

And without another word Marquis left, and only Ciel, Sebastian, and Ciel's mother remained.

"I better go check on your father, Ciel," Marquise stated quietly, standing from her chair.

"Mother, can Sebastian stay here for the night?" Ciel asked. "It's already dark."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea, _Ange._ Your father is unhappy and William is-"

"Please," Ciel begged. "He has nowhere else to go."

Marquise sighed and bowed her head. "Alright. He can stay in the spare room across the hall from yours. Now, if you'd please excuse me."

Marquise of Phantomhive scuttled away, and in the enormous dining room, a nerved Ciel and an upset Sebastian still sat at the table.

Hannah had watched the scene from the parlor and she shook her head in despair at the final outcome.

_Nothing is meant to work out for Ciel._

* * *

 

Ciel took a deep breath and glanced from side-to-side, checking to see if he was alone in the dark corridor. He was satisfied when he found that his surroundings were silent, barring the ticking grandfather clock.

Ciel's slender fingers groped for the doorknob in the darkness, and he shuddered slightly when the digits brushed across the cool metal handle.

Before he opened the door, however, he paused.

_Should I knock?_ Ciel wondered. _It would be the polite thing to do, but do I really need to worry about being polite around Sebastian?_

Ciel stood there and pondered his options for a minute, whether he should knock or simply trot right in.

He finally shook his head. _No, that's ridiculous. Sebastian may be a peasant, but it's my job as a Phantomhive to be courteous at all times._

And, with a shaky hand, Ciel rapped his bony knuckles on the wooden door.

"Come in."

Ciel sighed in relief and quietly opened the door, slipping inside hurriedly afterwards before shutting the door again.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I-" Ciel stopped and gasped.

Sebastian was sitting on the edge of the bed, his legs dangling off the side. His brown trousers were still on but he wore no shirt; that garment and his suspenders were discarded on the floor. Moonlight poured through the window that loomed behind the bed, streaming dazzling light down onto Sebastian, making his messy hair appear more appealing and his flesh luminous. The beams of silver also highlighted the toned muscles in his arms an abdomen, clear signs that he endured physical labor often.

"Oh my," Ciel mumbled, his blush utterly visible. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Ciel, what's wrong?" Sebastian asked, his eyes filled with concern.

Ciel chose to stare at the ground, for he wanted to avoid gazing at the aesthetic man. "I'm afraid."

"Of the dark?"

"No," Ciel hissed, clenching his fists. "I'm afraid of my life."

"Ciel," Sebastian spoke softly as he slowly slid off the bed and rose to his feet. "What's wrong?"

"Everything!" Ciel cried, tears filling his eyes. "I'm so tired of pretending to be someone I'm not! I don't want to be treated like a woman and be expected to attend church with that bastard priest, and I don't want to create a family with someone I don't love! It hurts my pride, my soul, my dignity… my heart…"

Sebastian rushed over to Ciel and encircled the boy in his arms. "Shh, it's alright. Everything will be okay."

"No it won't!" Ciel whined, burying his face in Sebastian's bare chest. "Hannah used to tell me stories of fairy tales with princes that had cheerful endings and characters that had happily ever afters. I want to be happy!"

"You will be happy," Sebastian assured, leaning down to put his hands on both sides of Ciel's face. "I promise. You'll get your cheerful ending and your happily ever after."

"I won't with William," Ciel snorted. "The Duke of Brittany doesn't know the meaning of happiness."

"But there are others who do."

Ciel blinked, his eyes wide as if he discovered clarity. "Sebastian," he whispered, reaching up and gently placing his hand over Sebastian's. "You."

Sebastian's cheeks lit up and his eyes grew, as well. "Ciel, I can't support you. I have no money, no reputation, no future-"

Ciel pressed his hand against Sebastian's lips to shush him. "Sebastian, _tu es fort."_

The room was silent with the exception of the exchange of nervous breathing and hearts pumping with adrenaline. Ciel slowly removed his hand from Sebastian's lips, while Sebastian wrapped Ciel in a tighter embrace.

Time seemed frozen once again between the fluttering eyelids and anxious trembling, then the peasant and the noble leaned in for a passionate kiss.

* * *

 

_To hell with that rat,_ William thought angrily as he stormed down the hall. _He deserves to die like the rest of the third class vermin._

"…doesn't know the meaning of happiness."

William halted immediately and glanced to his left, studying the closed door.

"But there are others who do."

_I did hear a voice,_ William confirmed. _Isn't that the room Michaelis is staying in?_

William slinked closer to the door and opened it enough to allow him to peer in. He nearly gasped aloud when he saw Sebastian hugging Ciel in a seemingly affectionate manner.

_That cretin,_ William snarled. _How dare he put those squalid limbs on_ my _fiancé._

"Sebastian, _tu es fort."_

_What? He's complimenting that rogue? Ciel's definitely getting punished for th-_

The furious man's thoughts were interrupted when he watched as Sebastian held Ciel tighter, the latter reaching up to lock lips with the peasant.

William practically choked as he watched the indigent run his fingers through Ciel's hair, caressing his face in a loving, appreciative way.

Not only was he fuming because Sebastian was kissing his fiancé, he was also angry because his fiancé was _responding._

William narrowed his eyes and his fingers dug into the wooden doorframe.

_They'll regret this._

* * *

 

Hannah cautiously viewed her surroundings, clinging to the oil lamp she held since it was her only light source.

_Everything looks clear._

The maid jogged away from the manor, her shoes clicking with each step she took. She rushed toward the front gate and flung it open, being especially careful to avoid sounding the loud creaking that it made.

Hannah could see a light coming closer and she bit her lip. "Canterbury, hurry!"

The purple-haired boy appeared from the darkness, his breathing heavy from running. His brown vest was wrinkled from the exercise and his gray ribbon was a tad askew. Like Hannah, he held an oil lamp, though the flame had nearly died out.

"This better be important," Hannah whispered, taking a quick look back at the manor. "Marquis Phantomhive will have my head if he ever finds out about our secret meetings."

"This is important," Canterbury said. "But you can't tell your master for now."

Hannah raised an eyebrow. "What happened, Canterbury?"

The Trancy servant bowed his head. "I'm afraid something has happened to my master."

* * *

 

**Amour - Love**

**Chère - Dear**

**Ange - Angel**

**Tu es fort - You are strong**


	6. Diary Entry #220

“I grew up in a fairly solicitous family. They all supported my decisions, especially _mon grand-père._ I remember he always used to say ‘a good deed does not show what is moral or expected; rather, a crevice in someone’s heart.’”

Ciel furrowed his eyebrows. “What does that mean?”

“He’d never tell me the true meaning,” Sebastian answered. “But I think the purport of it was that people don’t do good things because they’re expected to or because it’s the right thing to do, and when someone does do something good it reveals some of their kindness, not their sagacity.”

“I never thought about probity like that,” Ciel stated in wonder. “I thought people only acted upon what they were taught.”

“Some people probably do,” Sebastian shrugged. “Granddad was an old loony, anyway. It’s a wonder if he said that deliberately.”

Ciel smiled thoughtfully and he glanced up at the beautiful, clear sky. The weather had been exceptionally lovely as of late, a facet Ciel usually never noticed. But, for the last couple days, Ciel was constantly around Sebastian’s side, and, since Sebastian worked at an outdoor market, Ciel had been able to indulge in the beautiful weather, something he wasn't used to.

“Sebastian! Sebastian!”

The two males turned to see a bouncing boy bounding toward them, his messy hair flopping and a wide grin stretched across his thin lips.

“Luka,” Sebastian announced happily, ruffling the boy’s hair with his slender fingers. “Running around town again, eh?”

The grin on his face grew. “I've come to play with you, Sebastian.”

“You know I love playing with you, Luka,” Sebastian began softly, kneeling on the ground so he was at eye level with the boy. “But I have another friend with me today. See?”

The boy’s eyes followed the direction Sebastian’s finger pointed until he locked gazes with Ciel. Ciel gulped nervously as the boy looked him up and down, studying his rather pristine outfit.

“He’s of the nobles,” Luka whispered in Sebastian’s ear, yet Ciel still heard him.

“Yes, he’s of the nobles,” Sebastian confirmed, looking into Luka’s eyes with a stern gaze. “And he requires my attention right now.”

Luka’s beam faded into a solemn frown and he nodded. “I understand. Sorry to bother you, Sebastian.”

The young boy hung his head in disappointment and he began trudging away, dragging his feet in the dirt.

“I apologize about that,” Sebastian said, standing to his feet and dusting himself off.

“He looks so sad,” Ciel frowned. “I honestly didn't mind.”

Sebastian shook his head. “I’m with you today. If I play with him, you won’t have anything to do.”

“I can play too,” Ciel stated.

“Luka and I play catch, though, and sometimes it can get a little-”

“I don’t mind,” Ciel insisted. “Just let me try."

“You’re sure?”

Ciel nodded, and Sebastian cupped his hands over his mouth. “Luka!”

The sad boy halted and turned around to face the person who called his name. Sebastian smiled and bent down to grab an orange out of a crate.

“Want to play catch?”

Luka sniffled. “B-but your friend is here, and I don’t want to take your attention away from him.”

Ciel gave Luka a small smile. “You won’t be taking his attention away. I’d like to play, too, if you’d allow me.”

Luka’s smile immediately returned and he nodded, sprinting back to the two older males.

“Luka, this is Ciel,” Sebastian introduced, and Luka nodded.

“Nice to meet you, Ciel. I’m Luka.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Ciel smirked, extending his gloved hand forward. Luka looked at the gesture in questioning and he glanced up at his indigent friend.

“Sebastian, are you sure he should be playing with us? He’s wearing too many clothes.”

Ciel blinked and he studied his hands. “Is it because I’m donning gloves?”

“That’s part of it,” Sebastian agreed. “It’s still warm outside, so we find it ludicrous that you nobles can wear gloves in this weather for no reason.”

“I wear them for a reason,” Ciel protested. “These keep my fingernails from getting dirty.”

Sebastian and Luka struggled to keep their lips pressed together as they tried not to laugh, and Ciel’s face became red with anger.

“What? Stop laughing! It’s a perfectly good reas-”

“Ciel, it shouldn't matter if your fingernails are dirty,” Sebastian pointed out, a few chuckles escaping as he talked.

“Yeah,” Luka giggled. “Not even the girls I know care about that.”

“Really?” Ciel questioned, observing the dark cloth that masked his fingers.

“It’s a pointless thing to worry about,” Sebastian shrugged. “And you can’t play catch with those on your hands.”

_It’s pointless?_ Ciel wondered. _I've never wandered outside without gloves to prevent my nails from getting dirty, but now that I think about it, the whole idea is fairly inane._

“So? Are you going to take them off or are Luka and I going to play by ourselves?”

Ciel swallowed and he shook his head. “N-no, I’ll take them off.”

Ciel slowly slipped the black silk off of his fingers, revealing his pale hands that had never seen the sun before. His long, perfected nails shone in the light of day, and the warm natural rays streamed down on the exposed skin, heating his clammy flesh.

“You look so surprised,” Sebastian mused.

“This is the first time I've ever taken my gloves off while outside,” Ciel whispered in awe, turning his hand over so his palm could feel the heat. “I’m pondering why I haven’t done this earlier.”

Sebastian smiled. “If you find that outrageous, just wait until you play catch with us.”

* * *

 

“Where is he, Hannah?”

“He has yet to come, Sir,” Hannah replied quietly, her calm hands straightening his collar.

“What could be taking him so long?” Marquis of Phantomhive questioned. “Even the Duke of Brittany is becoming impatient.”

“I’m sure he’ll arrive soon, Sir,” Hannah assured. “He knows how important this is to Lord Trancy.”

On the outside, Hannah was composed and collected as she prepared her masters for the wedding, but on the inside she was distraught and fretful.

Ciel had yet to come home, and, even though Hannah knew exactly where he was, he still needed to come home to get ready. If he got caught with that peasant, her masters as well as the Duke of Brittany would have more than a fit, and Ciel would most likely get locked up.

But his late arrival wasn't her only concern, for she was also worried about Lord Trancy. Canterbury’s description of the events were brief and vague, mostly because he was unsure about what had actually happened, but he did know that his master had been terribly beaten, and the only culprit was none other than the Duke of Marche.

_That was a few nights ago,_ Hannah thought drearily. _And I still haven't told Ciel. I wonder if the lord will be capable of walking down the aisle._

A somewhat muffled whinny could be heard from downstairs and the marquis smiled.

“It seems that the Duke of Brittany has arrived.”

Hannah nodded but she kept silent.

_The Duke of Brittany had better keep his hands off Ciel. If I find one bruise on his body, there’s no telling what I’ll do._

* * *

 

“All we do is toss it back and forth, like this.”

Ciel’s eyes darted from left to right, watching as the orange traveled from Luka to Sebastian.

“Can it not touch the ground?” He asked.

“It would be best if it didn't,” Sebastian said. “I still have to sell it eventually. But if you do drop it it’s nothing to fret over.”

Ciel bit his lip. _I think I can do this._

“So whaddaya say, Ciel?” Luka asked. “Wanna give it a try?”

Ciel smiled nervously and nodded. “I’ll endeavor.”

“Good,” Sebastian grinned, catching the orange. “Put your hands forward like we showed you and get ready.”

Ciel took a deep breath and held his arms out, cupping both of his hands. Sebastian did say that the orange could be dropped, but he didn't want to embarrass himself on his first try, so he adjusted his stance to ensure the perfect catch.

“Ready?” Sebastian questioned, preparing to pitch.

Ciel looked up at him with determined eyes. “Ready.”

Sebastian threw the orange softly, the fruit slowly traveling through the air. Ciel’s eyes never left the orange projectile, and his hands tensed as it came closer.

_Come on, catch it!_

Ciel extended his hand out a bit further and the fruit plopped into his palm.

“I caught it,” Ciel exclaimed, a proud beam lighting up his face. “I really caught it!”

“Perfect,” Sebastian praised. “Now throw it to Luka.”

Ciel looked down at the orange and then back at Sebastian in hesitation. “B-but what if I hurt him?”

“It’ll only hurt him depending on how hard you throw it,” Sebastian explained. “Just toss it to him gently.”

Ciel gulped and he regarded Luka with uneasy eyes. The boy smirked at him in reassurance, spreading his legs apart and crouching down in a prepared pose. Ciel carefully snapped his wrist up, the rind of the orange leaving the feel of his fingers.

And Luka caught it.

“Very good!” Sebastian clapped.

“Nice throw, Ciel,” Luka complimented.

A small blush dared to show on Ciel’s cheeks and he looked down. “It was nothing.”

“Alright, Lord Modest,” Sebastian winked. “Keep doing nothing, because we’re about to go another round.”

The three continued to throw the orange around, and not one time did it hit the ground. Ciel became slightly anxious whenever it was his turn, but each time he managed to catch the fruit and throw it back. His confidence was quickly growing, to the point where he almost wanted to challenge Sebastian.

“You’re getting good, Ciel,” Luka remarked, the orange falling into his hands.

“Psh, I am an expert at this,” Ciel joked, and Sebastian smiled.

“Okay,” Luka grinned. “Then this throw won’t be easy.”

Ciel’s eyes narrowed in determination. “No matter how arduous it may be, I can guarantee that I’ll catch it.”

Luka accepted the challenge and, not wasting any time, he hurled the orange at Ciel.

The fruit was higher than Ciel could reach -- he always loathed his height -- but he was resolute on catching that orange, and he’d be damned if he would negate his guarantee.

Ciel kept his eyes focused on the fruit and he leaped to the sky, his arm extended upward as he reached for the orange. He stretched his fingers out as far as he could, and the peel brushed against the tips of his fingernails.

Ciel hit the ground with a harsh _thud,_ his back skidding in the dirt. His forest green jacket and shorts were now splotched with brown, and his black, knee-high socks lighter from the dust.

“Ciel!” Sebastian cried, he and Luka sprinting over to him.

Ciel sat up unstably, his back and bottom sore from the impact.

Sebastian immediately knelt down to Ciel’s level and he put his arm around the boy’s back, partially cradling him.

“Ciel, are you hurt?”

Ciel craned his neck back, his head resting on Sebastian’s upper arm. Sebastian was looking down at him with concerned eyes, his red irises overflowing with worry. Ciel smiled up at the peasant, and he slowly raised his arm up, motioning for Sebastian to regard the object in his hand.

“I caught it.”

Sebastian’s expression turned to one of shock and he gradually lowered his eyes. Indeed, lying in the pale palm of Ciel’s hand, was the orange.

“Wow,” Luka cooed in admiration. “You really caught it, Ciel!”

Ciel’s eyes shifted to the child and he smirked. “I couldn't go back on my word. Besides,” he continued, his gaze traveling back to the man that held him. “Sebastian said that it shouldn't touch the ground.”

Sebastian blinked twice before a grateful smile spread across his lips, and he wrapped his arms around Ciel in an appreciative embrace. “Thank you.”

Ciel kept his arms firmly circled around the man’s neck as they hugged.

_This feels good,_ he thought. _Sebastian is so warm._

“Ciel Phantomhive!”

Sebastian’s arms instantly retracted, leaving Ciel feeling cold and empty. Ciel glanced over his shoulder to see William approaching them angrily, his chartreuse eyes burning with fury.

“W-William,” Ciel stuttered, he and Sebastian scrambling to their feet.

“Look at you,” William spat, his eyes traveling up and down Ciel’s body. “You’re filthy! Have you overlooked your compulsory affairs? Or would you rather neglect Lord Trancy’s wedding?”

“The wedding!” Ciel gasped, a hand covering his mouth. “I completely forgot.”

“Your parents and I have been awaiting your arrival while you've been sitting here playing in the dirt like an imbecile!”

Luka quivered with fear and he hid behind Sebastian, grasping his pant leg out of trepidation.

“And _you,”_ William snarled, pointing his finger at Sebastian. “You've already conned a dinner and a one night stay from the Phantomhives, so Ciel’s presence is no longer required around the likes of you.”

“You've taken this all wrong,” Sebastian insisted, waving his hands innocently. “I’m not trying to steal from Cie-”

“I _know_ what you’re trying to do, rat!” William hissed, grabbing Ciel’s arm and tugging him away harshly. “Now, if you’d excuse us, we have an important event to attend.”

Ciel looked back at Sebastian with sorrowful eyes as each step he took separated them further apart.

_No,_ Ciel thought sadly. _Don’t go._

* * *

 

“Your clothes were fairly grimy,” Hannah stated with a small smile, continuing to button Ciel’s fresh shirt. “If it rained then you could have provided enough mud for all of France.”

“I forgot about the wedding, Hannah,” Ciel whispered.

Hannah paused her actions and she glanced up at the boy. “Lord?”

“I told myself I wouldn't forget,” Ciel continued, averting Hannah’s gaze by glancing out the window. “He’s my dearest friend, and I repeatedly reminded myself that I’d be there and prepared for him on this day. But I forgot.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Lord,” Hannah said softly, fastening the last of the buttons on his dress shirt. “I still have plenty of time to get you ready.”

Ciel’s disconsolate eyes continued to stare out the large window, watching the swaying flowers down in the garden below.

“Hannah.”

“Yes?”

“Will I be this sorrowful on my wedding day?”

Hannah’s eyes filled with sadness and she frowned as she regarded the miserable boy that she had thought of as her son for so long.

_If he was my son, he would never have to suffer through this._

* * *

 

Ciel sat silently next to William in the pew, his gloved hands fidgeting with the skull that rested atop his cane. He wore his rather tight and ruffled black outfit -- which had been William’s request -- and he was anxious but hopeful as he waited for Alois to come through the church doors.

_At least his marriage won’t be miserable._

Actually, Ciel’s fiancé had been rather quiet as of late. He seemed to be keeping his distance from Ciel ever since Sebastian stayed a few nights ago, and today was the first time he had lashed out since then.

_Now that I think about it, he’s been quite reserved. That’s unusual._

Ciel halted his fidgeting and he glanced at his surroundings.

Claude stood at the front with Father Ash, the two talking in hushed tones. Claude had an outwardly excited appearance and Father Ash was smiling, as well, though out of cruelty or happiness, Ciel wasn't sure.

The doors of the church opened, and everyone turned to see what they had expected to be a bubbly bride.

Ciel almost vomited.

Alois looked _awful._

The music from the organ sounded dull and toneless as Alois began his journey down the aisle, an almost fearful expression on his face.

The dress he wore was extremely revealing and disgusting, making him appear as a harlot. The skirt was hitched to his upper thigh, barely covering his crotch. A small train hung down the back of the skirt, giving it a somewhat burlesque appearance. The top of the dress was a tight corset, dipping down low enough to reveal most of the boy’s chest and collarbone. A plain flower was clipped into Alois’ hair, and the birdcage veil wasn't enough to hide the gloominess in his face.

The dress wasn't what made Ciel sick, though, for it was the marks on Alois’ body that made his stomach turn.

Purple and yellow bruises dotted Alois’ legs, starting from his ankles and ending at the very top of his thighs. Tiny scratches littered his arms, and a deep gash stretched across one of his hands -- he attempted to cover it up with the lace gloves, but Ciel saw right through it. His lower lip was split open and a dark bruise underneath his left eye seemed exceptionally tender and sore, the sight almost making Ciel flinch.

It took all that Ciel had not to cry. What happened to his friend? Who could possibly have beaten him to such a pulp that he was constantly fearful and afraid?

That wasn't the Alois that Ciel knew.

_I must find out who did this,_ Ciel thought. _I won’t allow_ anyone _to hurt Alois._

* * *

 

Ciel ducked and slipped through the crowd of guests, finally able to ditch William. Though his fiancé had been quiet, he had also been attached, and it was nearly impossible for Ciel to stray away from the man.

But, at last, Ciel didn't see William anywhere and he could confront his friend privately about his various contusions and scrapes.

“Alois,” Ciel whispered, gently touching his friend’s elbow. The blond flinched and practically cringed a mile, his wide eyes full of panic.

“Oh, Ciel,” Alois breathed, a relieved demeanor immediately washing over him. “Pardon my enthusiasm; you gave me a fright. Are you enjoying yourself?”

“We need to talk,” Ciel said in a low voice. “In private.”

Alois took a quick glance around before he grabbed Ciel’s wrist. “The church should be empty. Follow me.”

The two boys quietly crept out of the horde and silently made their way inside of the now empty church.

“Goodness,” Alois breathed once they were in, observing the crowd of people outside from the stained-glass window. “Quite a bunch, eh?”

“Alois,” Ciel began seriously, placing his hand on the blond’s shoulder. “What happened?”

“What do you mean?” Alois asked, his eyes meeting Ciel’s for a moment before they returned to the window. “With the ceremony? I suppose it’s not what I had in mind, but Claude definit-”

“Stop playing dumb!” Ciel yelled, Alois slightly wincing from the harsh words. “You know what I mean. You’re jumping around like a terrified child and I know that scaring you is not a simple task.”

Alois’ lips fell into a solemn frown and Ciel squeezed his shoulder tenderly.

“We’re companions, Alois. You can tell me what happened.”

“I-I was beaten,” Alois choked out, tears beginning to form in his eyes.

“But _who_ beat you? And why?”

“Claude,” he whispered.

_“Claude?”_ Ciel questioned. _“Claude_ did this?”

“Mhm,” Alois nodded, tears falling from his eyes. He swayed forward carelessly and Ciel caught him, holding his crying friend in his arms.

“H-he’s never satisfied,” Alois whimpered. “No matter what I do nor how many times we have intercourse, he’s never content.”

_An addict,_ Ciel thought grimly. _How unpleasant._

“But why does he hurt you, Alois?”

Alois sniffled. “H-he hits me when I refuse. I-I can’t keep up with his desires.”

Ciel was clueless as to what to do. His parents couldn't do a thing, and William wouldn't do anything because he was acquaintances with Claude. If Ciel told Father Ash then he would simply say that it was Claude’s job to keep Alois in line, and Ciel was powerless to do anything himself.

But, even if he was powerless, and even if his friend did have a mouth with a tendency to snap, Ciel wasn't going to permit anyone to hurt Alois.

He forbade it.

“Alois,” Ciel started, placing his hands on both sides of his friend’s face. “If he hits you again, promise you’ll come tell me.”

Alois sniffled repeatedly. “I-I-”

_“Promise_ you’ll come tell me,” Ciel repeated.

“I-I promise,” Alois stated, hugging his friend tight. “Thank you, Ciel.”

“Don’t mention it,” Ciel said softly. “Now let’s get back outside befor-”

“Ah, Ciel. There you are.”

Ciel turned and Alois raised his head to see William standing between the large church doors.

“I hate to interrupt,” William began, striding his way inside. “But Claude is looking for you, Alois, and I need to talk to Ciel surreptitiously, as well.”

“Oh, right,” Alois mumbled, quickly blotting his damp cheeks. “I-I’ll converse with you later, Ciel.”

“Goodbye,” Ciel spoke inaudibly as his friend walked away and his fiancé came nearer.

“You look ravishing, by the way,” William called to Alois as the blond approached the church doors.

“Thank you,” Alois flashed him a quick grin, then he went outside.

“I’ve been meaning to speak with you,” William remarked, his voice sounding ominous.

Ciel looked at him with challenging eyes. “And whatever would you need?”

“Don’t look so smug,” William growled. “You should get a hanging for what you've done.”

Ciel didn't bat an eyelash. “Oh? And what have I done?”

“I did not make the long journey from Brittany to be insulted by an unappreciative brat,” William snarled. “I’m doing your parents a favor.”

“Well don’t,” Ciel barked. “There are plenty of other dukes I’d rather be with that wouldn't mind doing my parents the same favor. If you’re so ‘insulted’ by me then you can leave in the same carriage you arrived in.”

William stared at Ciel for a moment before he raised his hand and slapped Ciel’s cheek brutally, the action making the boy’s neck snap back.

“I am a highly respected man and I will not be humiliated by a puny, insignificant lord like yourself,” William roared. “There may be other dukes but no matter how far you search you won’t find one like me, so I suggest you change your ungrateful attitude.”

Ciel stayed silent but his mouth was open in shock, his face stinging from the blow. William grabbed his chin and stared into his surprised eyes.

“You will not speak to that peasant again,” William instructed, his threatening eyes practically shining through the lenses of his glasses. “You will tell him to stay away from you, and if you don’t your punishment can be much more severe, such as what happened to Alois. Do you understand, Ciel?”

Ciel’s eyes slightly widened at the mention of his friend, but he managed to close his mouth and he nodded. “I-I understand.”

“Good,” William breathed, backing away from Ciel. “Now get going.”

“What?”

“I expect you to be home in less than thirty minutes,” William informed. “It shouldn't take that long to break the news.”

Ciel froze and tears sprung into his eyes at the realization of what William meant.

And he only had thirty minutes to pull himself together.

* * *

 

Ciel didn't want to do this. He had already cried the whole way; his eyes were numb, yet his heart still ached. This would be the hardest thing he ever had to do in his life.

_But I don’t want to end up like Alois,_ Ciel thought. _I don’t want to be beaten to a pulp, or to the point of death. William’s right; this marriage would be what's best for my family…_

Ciel took a deep breath as he desperately tried to keep himself together.

_…but not my happiness._

“Ciel?” Sebastian said, setting down whatever he had been messing with in the crate and standing straight. “I wasn't expecting you to visit again.”

“Neither was I,” Ciel whispered, holding in his tears. “I was walking around and decided to come by.”

“Well, you look very nice,” Sebastian complimented with a warm smile. “I hope your family wasn't too mad about your clothes.”

“No, no, they weren't,” Ciel lied, his voice cracking as he tried to sound as casual as possible. “It was just dirt, after all.”

“Are you alright?” Sebastian questioned gently. “You sound upset.”

“I’m fine,” Ciel stated, faking a smile. “I’m just tired.”

“Oh, well I can understand that. Are you too tired for another game of catch? I definitely want to challenge you again,” Sebastian winked, and the simple gesture almost threw Ciel over the edge. The boy clenched his fists and fixed his eyes on the ground.

“Sebastian.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t want to see you anymore.”

“What?” Sebastian asked, his eyebrows shooting up.

“I don’t want to see you anymore,” Ciel repeated.

“Ciel, did I do something wrong?”

“No!” Ciel shouted, finally raising his head to look Sebastian in the eye. “I don’t want to see you anymore! You’re a peasant and I’m a noble! The two don’t mix!”

Sebastian’s eyebrows gradually lowered and he frowned sadly. “But, Ciel-”

“No! We’re too different, and all you do is cause me trouble!”

Sebastian expression instantly became one of hurt. “Ciel-”

_“Stay away from me!”_ Ciel screamed. “I never want to see you again! And if we do happen to cross, you will refer to me as ‘Lord Phantomhive,’ just like a peasant should!”

Sebastian’s wounded appearance deepened and he closed his eyes respectfully. “As you wish, Lord Phantomhive.”

Ciel simply spun on his heel and sprinted away, not even bothering to reply.

Tears streamed down Ciel’s cheeks as he dashed home, his eyesight almost completely obscured from the crying. He wanted to run to his bed and hide under his blankets for eternity. He could nearly feel his heart breaking as more and more tears trickled down his face.

_He’ll never look at me the same way again._

* * *

 

**Unfortunately I could only squeeze one French word in this chapter. I'm sorry; there'll be more next time!**

**Mon grand-père - My grandfather**


	7. Diary Entry #227

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to apologise for suddenly ceasing the updates on my stories. I had to take an unexpected ‘vacation’ as an emergency and some urgent matters had to be dealt with. But I’m back and my updates should be regular from now on.  
>  Enjoy the chapter, kitlets. ^-^

Hannah rushed down the path hastily, her shoes clicking on the stone beneath her feet. The oil lamp she clutched in her hand illuminated the desperation in her dark blue eyes, and her long hair wisped behind her; this was the first time in years that her hair remained unbraided.

These nightly dashes were beginning to become routine for the Phantomhive servant; she could already feel her stomach shrinking from the immense amount of exercise she had been doing lately. Even though they had met outside of the Phantomhive manor for years, she recently had a change in her mind. She didn’t know what was going on, but she didn’t trust being around the Phantomhive manor with the Duke of Brittany present.

She hadn’t trusted the bastard from the start in all actuality, but something drastic had occurred a few days ago, and the only explanation was the duke. She had seen Ciel in many states throughout his life, but he had never reached this condition before. The severity of it wasn’t natural, and the only probable cause was the Duke of Brittany.

Hannah began breathing heavier and small beads of sweat formed at her collar. It didn’t matter if she had been doing this repeatedly for a few nights; she still hated running in a dress.

She was relieved soon, however, for she could see the Trancy gates ahead and she also spotted a small orb of light next to the iron entrance.

_“Bonsoir!”_ Hannah called out. _“Désirez-vous une chatte, mon bon gentilhomme?”_

Upon hearing the words, the orb of light began to approach Hannah. She could tell that he was extremely wary, but that wasn’t unusual. He had been extra nervous ever since they began meeting outside of the Trancy estate, and he didn’t bother to hide his fearfulness.

He anxiously glanced back at the manor before he took one final step toward Hannah, and their eyes met.

“Hannah, we can’t continue to meet secretly like this,” Canterbury whispered. “My master will be getting suspicious, not to mention his husband is always watching me.”

“It’s been seven days, Canterbury,” Hannah croaked, her throat dry and her voice raspy. “Seven days. Ciel hasn’t left his room once, and he’ll only nibble on his food. He hasn’t spoken a single word to me. This isn’t like him.”

“My master seems to be doing better,” Canterbury said, taking another quick glance back at the manor. “But he’s much quieter now that he’s married.”

“I don’t trust the dukes,” Hannah stated. “They care about no one but themselves. I know the Duke of Brittany is responsible for Ciel’s sudden reclusiveness. He’s been entering Ciel’s bedroom regularly.”

“I worry about my master, as well,” Canterbury agreed, his voice lowering. “I can hear him shriek from their bedroom at night, but I can’t interfere. Come back in a few days and we’ll report to each other again. I’m sure we can think of a solution for all of this in the meantime.”

“I hope you’re right,” Hannah breathed. “Have a good night, Canterbury.”

“As well to you, Hannah.”

The two parted ways, and Canterbury cautiously slipped back through the gate.

_I hope Lord Phantomhive will be okay,_ Canterbury thought. _These marriages are nothing but trouble._

The stressed servant ran his fingers through his plum-colored hair, tilting his head back to the sky as he did so. He smiled as he noticed the stars speckled across the atmosphere. His cheerful grin faded, though, when he noticed something different on the second floor.

_That’s odd. Wasn’t that window closed before?_

* * *

 

“We must rise above those sinners and those sins, and we must hold unto God, for without faith, we have nothing.”

“We already have nothing!” A voice shouted, a few yells of agreement following.

Tanaka raised his head higher. “Oi, lad! You are wrong! We have almost nothing! We do not have clothes for our backs, nor food for our stomachs, nor medicine for our diseases. But, we do have one thing. Yes, in the darkest of times, in the dimmest of light, we have _God.”_

The boom of applause and squeals of whistles echoed throughout the crowd, the peasants jumping with joy from Tanaka’s response.

“Yeah!” Bard exclaimed, thrusting his fist into the air. “Now that’s a true sermon! Aye, Sebastian, you hearin’ this?”

His friend didn’t even twitch in response. He simply sat on a pile of hay with his elbow on his knee and his chin resting in his hand, the same somber expression that he had had for _une semaine_ still remaining on his face.

“Sebastian,” Bard said louder. “Did you hear that? Tanaka gave one hell of a speech!”

Sebastian didn’t reply; he merely continued staring at the ground in misery.

“Sebastian,” Bard stated softly, walking over to his friend and sitting next to him on the pile of hay. “Tanaka’s preaching usually always cheers you up.”

“What did I do,” Sebastian whispered, tears filling his eyes. “What did I do wrong. I don’t understand.”

“Ah, again about that noble,” Bard said, shaking his head. “Sebastian, it’s been a week. Accept the fact that that selfish brat woke up and saw the light of day.”

Sebastian lifted his head up and he stared into Bard’s eyes. “What did you say?”

Bard shrugged. “He finally woke up. He realised that he has a life of wealth and glory now, and he’ll continue to live that way if he sticks with his fiancé. If he stayed with you, he wouldn’t have any of that. It’s not your fault, Sebastian. He just gave into his greedy desires. Don’t let that selfish brat-”

Sebastian’s somber expression immediately contorted into one of rage and he punched Bard in his right eye, sending the male falling backward.

Gasps from people who witnessed the action were heard and the angry male stood to his feet.

“Don’t you ever call him a selfish brat! Ciel is a very caring person and I won’t allow you, nor anyone else to ever say he’s selfish!”

Sebastian then sprinted off in the crowd, disappearing within the large group of gatherers.

Bard sat up and he blinked. “Sebastian! I’m sorry! Sebastian? Sebastian! Come back!”

But it was too late. His upset friend was already long gone, and that left Bard to sit on the ground in the middle of the sermon alone.

* * *

 

Claude adjusted his glasses as he walked down the dark corridor, an unusual grin plastered upon his lips.

In all honesty, his life couldn’t be any more perfect. He had finally straightened out Alois’ bad manners and eating habits, so now the younger male no longer said insolent comments and he no longer consumed junk that would certainly increase the size of his thighs over time. And, best of all, whenever Claude wanted sex, he got it. There were no complaints and Alois no longer denied him. He could have sex with him whenever he wanted, and that was the one thing that made their marriage worth it.

“…Seems to be doing better. But he’s much quieter now that he’s married.”

Claude halted when he heard a hushed voice and he squinted his golden eyes. _Who was that?_

He took a few steps forward until he reached the window, where he saw Canterbury in front of _la portes du Trancy_ with a silver-haired woman.

Claude blinked. _Isn’t that the Phantomhive maid?_

“I don’t trust the dukes,” the Phantomhive maid said in a whispered tone. “They care about no one but themselves. I know the Duke of Brittany is responsible for Ciel’s sudden reclusiveness. He’s been entering Ciel’s bedroom regularly.”

“I worry about my master, as well,” Canterbury replied in an equally soft timbre. “I can hear him shriek from their bedroom at night, but I can’t interfere. Come back in a few days and we’ll report to each other again. I’m sure we can think of a solution for all of this in the meantime.”

Claude’s eyes narrowed into a menacing glare and he stepped away from the window.

_That maid will ruin everything if she gets the chance._

Claude’s angry glare now transformed into one of determination and he briskly strode down the corridor.

_I must do something about this._

* * *

 

**Earlier That Day**

* * *

 

_“Are you going to Scarborough Fair?_   
_Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;_   
_Remember me to the one who lives there,_   
_For once he was a true love of mine._

_“Tell him to make me a cambric shirt,_   
_Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;_   
_Sewn without seams or fine needlework,_   
_If he would be a true love of mine.”_

“A Great Britain ballad?” William questioned, leaning over his fiancé’s shoulder. “What an inappropriate thing for a young lady to be singing.”

Ciel closed his eyes calmly. “William, please. I’ve requested that you do not refer to me as a member of the opposite sex, haven’t I? Now I ask you again, please do not call me that.”

“But that’s what you are, are you not? For I would not marry a man.”

Ciel stayed silent and he opened his eyes, the beautiful flowers he was surrounded with coming into view once more. He had missed the sight and the smell of them; this was the first time he had left his bedroom in over a week.

He wasn’t dressed in his usual apparel; rather, the outfit William picked out for him. He wore a white, ruffled shirt with white trousers, socks, and one-inch heels. Light pink silk gloves clung to his bony fingers, and his bangs were pinned to the side, revealing his entire face, the style that William preferred. He clasped a white, lace parasol in his hands, since his fiancé insisted that he protect his pale skin from the sun. And his eyes, though they were finally clear of tears, still glistened with sadness.

“Ciel, I must inform you of something.”

Ciel turned his head to regard his fiancé. “What would that be?”

“I will be entering your chambers sometime after _dîner._ Please keep your door unlocked.”

Ciel nodded. “All right.”

The statement had actually came as a surprise to Ciel. William had barged into his bedroom chambers every night for a week now, never giving any warning and never asking for permission. This was the first time he gave Ciel a warning, and that fact nerved him.

_Why is he giving a warning now?_

William cleared his throat. “Now that that’s out of the way, shall we head inside? The sun is setting and you should be getting changed for dinner.”

Ciel bobbed his head politely. “Yes.”

In an almost robotic movement, Ciel linked his arm with William’s, his dainty hand curving and resting against the side of his fiancé’s arm.

“William?” Ciel said quietly as the two began strolling back toward the manor.

“What is it, Dear?”

“It’s going to be cold tonight.”

William blinked. “And what does that matter?”

“The peasants. They don’t have any clothing and they hardly have shelter. Are you worried about them?”

“Of course not,” William snorted. “They get what they deserve for being so poor.”

Ciel sighed and bowed his head, his eyes drooping with sadness. “That’s what I was afraid you would say.”

* * *

 

“Canterbury.”

The servant stopped scrubbing his master’s hair and he looked down. “Yes, Lord?”

“Which do you think Claude would like better: pink or white roses?”

Canterbury rocked forward on his knees, and he bit his lip. “I’m not quite sure, Sir. Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

Alois frowned and he absent-mindedly began popping the soap bubbles that surrounded him. “We don’t talk much. Claude prefers a silent environment.”

“I apologise for speaking my opinion so openly, _mon roi,_ but that is no way to run a marriage.”

“What should I do? I can’t go against Claude’s orders. I love him and I’ll do whatever makes him happy, but I’m his wife. I’d at least like to talk to him.”

Canterbury cringed when he heard Alois say ‘wife.’

_The indoctrination has commenced._

“Perhaps what you could do is ask him about it during dinner tonight,” Canterbury suggested, his fingers starting to lather the soap in Alois’ hair once more. “I’m sure he’ll be in a good mood then.”

“I hope you’re right,” Alois sighed. “What a dull discussion to have during a bath.”

The conversation died down and the only sound was of Canterbury’s fingers cleaning Alois’ hair.

Then, suddenly, a small creak was heard and the two males immediately directed their eyes toward the door as it opened and a figure emerged.

“Pardon me,” Claude spoke in his usual monotone voice. “I’d like to speak with Alois for a moment in private. Canterbury, if you’d please.”

Alois squealed in excitement and he flashed Canterbury an elated smile.

Canterbury lowered his head respectfully. “Yes, Sir.”

The servant stood to his feet and exited the room, allowing Claude to step inside and shut the door so they were alone.

He gave a phony smile to Alois. “Hello, Darling.”

“Oh, Claude!” Alois exclaimed, splashing the water around in the tub. “I knew you’d talk to me eventually!”

“Of course,” Claude said, his fake smile widening as he approached the tub. “I’d like to ask you something.”

“Anything!”

“How would you like to come with me to visit the Phantomhives tomorrow?”

“I’d love to!” Alois grinned. “But, Claude, I thought you didn’t like me associating with Ciel.”

“Nonsense,” Claude waved his hand. “Conversation is important for all young ladies. So, what do you say?”

“I’ll definitely go with you!”

_“Parfait,”_ Claude smirked, turning his back to Alois and facing the door. “We’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning.”

Claude waited until he had exited the _salle de bains_ and the door was closed before he allowed an evil smirk to spread across his lips.

_Parfait._

* * *

 

Ciel sat at the edge of his bed, the tears on his nightshirt finally beginning to dry. Though he was good at faking it in front of his parents and William, he couldn’t help but cry at night, and he was sure that Hannah had noticed his sudden change in demeanor.

The young male coughed and sputtered as new tears ran uncontrollably down his face, soaking his nightshirt in another spurt of weeping.

“Why am I crying?” Ciel asked himself aloud, shaking his head miserably. “This is absurd. I’m crying over someone I hardly know. He should mean nothing to me. Yet my heart is aching. Why? He was just a peasant, after all.”

_“I grew up in a fairly solicitous family. They all supported my decisions, especially mon grand-père. I remember he always used to say ‘a good deed does not show what is moral or expected; rather, a crevice in someone’s heart.’”_

Ciel shook his head. _No! I can’t think of him. I can’t…_

_“I think about cheerful moments and I try to remember happy memories that I’ve experienced in my life. I think about the people I love the most and the people I’ve helped throughout the years. Then, after realizing that there are many more happy memories to come, I don’t feel so bad anymore. In fact, I feel better than before.”_

“Damn it,” Ciel spat, tears continuing to trail down his face.

_It’s no use,_ Ciel thought despairingly. _There’s no way I’ll be able to forget that smile and those beautiful, crimson eyes. I won’t ever be able to forget the way his lips felt against mine and the way his messy hair fell so perfectly against his face._

Ciel stood from his bed and treaded over to the window, peering through the glass at the darkened sky that was littered with stars. He gently rested his fingers against the windowpane, noticing that the glass was very chilly. He wondered where Sebastian was right now and he worried that he had frozen to death in his sleep, his pale lips becoming a ominous blue and frost clinging to his hair strands. Then his eyes, those gorgeous, sanguine eyes would forever be masked by his frozen eyelids, those eyelids that would remain closed for the rest of eternity.

Ciel gulped, only able to choke out a whisper in his nervous state. “He must be so cold.”

A sudden knock startled the boy and he turned his head to regard the closed door. “Enter.”

The door opened wider, revealing William.

Ciel swallowed all of his solemn feelings before he spoke. “I was wondering when you’d come.”

“I apologise for keeping you waiting,” William stated, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. “I was just preparing.”

Ciel raised an eyebrow. “Preparing?”

William cracked a small smile and he approached Ciel until they were only inches apart from each other.

“I had planned to give you this during the wedding,” William began, sticking his hand in his waistcoat pocket. “But I decided that I’d like you to show it off now.”

Ciel blinked as William pulled a tiny box out of his pocket and he gasped as it was opened.

A gold ring adorned with diamonds and rubies sat inside of the box, sparkling and shimmering beautifully.

Ciel’s mouth was open wide in shock. “This couldn’t be…”

“Yes. Your wedding ring,” William smiled, slipping the piece of jewelry onto Ciel’s finger. “The rubies represent our love for each other.”

Though Ciel wanted to say something snide, he kept his mouth shut and he simply stared at the wondrous jewelry.

“Ciel, I know we’ve had problems in the past,” William said, holding onto Ciel’s hand tightly. “But I believe you’ve truly corrected your rotten behavior. It seems you’ve greatly matured these past few days, and that’s what I’ve been striving for. I will give you anything you desire, Ciel. As long as you give into me. You are mine, Ciel Phantomhive. And I’m going to keep it that way.”

William pulled Ciel into an embrace, and Ciel reluctantly hugged him back.

_You can give me all of the rubies in the world, William T. Spears,_ Ciel thought. _But their beauty will never compare to his eyes._

* * *

 

Looking through the window and staring at the darkness, he couldn’t be happier. This was one of his greatest ideas -- if not his best idea -- and he was excited to see how it would play out. He knew the Duke of Brittany would go along with it, for if it gave him more control over Ciel, why wouldn’t he? No, he would definitely go along with it. This was an excellent plan.

“Claude, are you coming to bed?”

“I’ll be there in just a moment, Alois,” Claude called back, his malevolent smirk apparent on his face.

_Just you wait, Phantomhive. You won’t suspect a thing._

* * *

 

**Hmm… what is Claude plotting in that itsy-bitsy miniscule brain of his? Guess you’ll have to find out next time!**

**Oh, and by the way, (I try not to ask for this too often because I’m not one of those “Ooh! Feed me your thoughts because I’m desperate!” writers) but comments really would be appreciated. They don’t have to be long and detailed or perfect, I just want to hear your thoughts on the story. Because honestly, your opinions and suggestions do matter. So if you could leave a comment that’d be awesome!**

**Also, I don’t own “Scarborough Fair.” I’m just using a few versions of it for the story. (I’ll have more to say about this at the very end of this story.) And yes, even though this song wasn’t around in this particular time period I’m using it anyway. Because this story is FICTIONAL.**

**Kay, that’s all I have to say. Au revoir for now, kitlets! ^-^**

  
**Bonsoir! Désirez-vous une chatte, mon bon gentilhomme? - Good evening! Do you desire a cat, my good gentleman?** (This may seem completely random, but Hannah was actually using this as a code phrase, so Canterbury knew it was her approaching.)

**Une semaine - A week**

**La portes du Trancy - The Trancy gates**

**Dîner - Dinner**

**Mon roi - My king**

**Parfait - Perfect**

**Salle de bains - Bathroom**


	8. Diary Entry #228

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. Sorry it took me so long to post this. Apparently my technology thought it would be funny to just stop working and completely destroy everything I had saved about my stories. Crazy, huh? So it might take me a while to update as I'm still trying to get everything together. I apologise! But enjoy anyways, kitlets! ^-^

_I don't remember many things from my childhood._

_Why? Well, for a variety of reasons._

_My childhood was quite bland. And no money in the world could have ever changed that. Because, in all truthfulness, what does money matter to a child?_

_That's right. It means absolutely_ nothing _._

_But that doesn't mean that a child doesn't have needs. They still expect to be fed when they're hungry and nursed when they're sick, and they also expect attention from the ones they love, though some may disagree that that is a 'want' more so than a 'need.'_

_And, in some cases, those people may be correct. After all, I survived with very little attention from the ones I loved the most, and I am still healthy and breathing today. Well, for the most part, anyway. Of course, I still craved their attention immensely. So immensely, in fact, that I was determined to do whatever I must to receive attention from them, whether it be good or bad attention, though my ploys never worked._

_Nevertheless, I was lonely most of the time. So very lonely. And my childhood was bland. Now, I know that no one but I -- and perhaps a few others -- will understand this feeling. Am I stating that I am special? Goodness, no. On the contrary, I am saying the complete opposite, but I am asking you -- pleading, actually -- that you analyze the question I am about to ask and you thoroughly search the depths of your mind for a proper answer._

_What will a child do with money?_

_Yes, I know the question seems foolish, but in all honesty, what would a child do? Now, I understand this question is a bit unfair because I am not talking about just any child. This child must not be able to comprehend what money does for this question to be valid. But, suppose that you gave a child a large stack of money, and this child has no idea what money is and what it is used for. What would the child do with it?_

_I can't speak for every child, but I know that I would be perplexed at first. Why did this person give me paper? Why is there so much paper? What is the meaning of this? The situation would be all very confusing to me._

  _Next, I would probably try to find a useful purpose for it. Perhaps I'd fold it into shapes or scribble on it with ink, or maybe I'd just crumple it up and throw it around like a ball. The possibilities would be endless as to what I could do with it._

_But what_ wouldn't _a child do with money? Simple. A child wouldn't guard the money with its life. A child wouldn't value the money to be more important than its relationship with its friends nor its guardians. And, to put it bluntly, a child most likely would find money to be unimportant and boring._

_That is the difference between adults and children. A difference that many do not understand. I will never fathom why some people cherish money as if it is the most precious thing they have ever handled. And I will never understand why my parents are that way, as well._

_Therefore, my childhood was bland. I was not given any relationships except for that of my caretaker. I was not given love and the feeling of security. Yes, I had food, but what good is eating a meal if you are not allowed to enjoy it with the ones you love?_

_Sure, I could have any toy I wanted. Anything in the world. If I wanted one thousand golden marbles then I was guaranteed I'd get them. If I wanted a top made out of pure silver then one would be hand delivered to me immediately. Nothing was too good for me._

_Except them._

_Except their love._

_That was priceless._

_Something I could never have._

_And now as I sit here, knowing that I still do not possess it, I wonder if I will ever be given the love I desire. Or perhaps the world has already decided my fate._

 "So?"

 Ciel raised his gaze and blinked. "Yes?"

 Claude's eyes narrowed in annoyance. "I asked you what your favorite memory from your childhood was. I've been waiting for an answer for five minutes now."

 Ciel lowered his eyes back to his lap and coughed nervously. "I... Well..."

 "Ciel, are you all right?"Alois asked, gently placing his hand on his friend's leg in concern.

 "I-I'm fine," Ciel assured, smiling at his friend. His eyes then wandered back to Claude. "And to answer your question, Mr. Faustus, I suppose the clothing sewn with diamonds and pearls was the most enjoyable aspect. But, of course, it still is now."

 Ciel coughed once more. _It's amazing my voice didn't crack from spurting all that drivel._

 A sly smile spread across Claude's lips. "I couldn't have asked for a more flawless answer."

 Ciel smiled falsely at him while he delicately took a sip of his tea. _What a creep._

 The sound of horses neighing filled the air, making all three males slightly raise their heads.

 "It would seem that your fiancé has returned," Claude commented.

 "It would seem that way," Ciel muttered.

 "Well then, I must be going," the Duke of Marche announced, standing from his chair. "After all, I only came here to discuss business with him."

 "Alois and I will stay here in the garden. We will patiently be awaiting your return," Ciel informed.

 Claude shot Ciel another dark smile. "Perfect."

 And with that, the Duke of Marche strode away from the two boys and made his way inside the Phantomhive manor to greet Ciel's fiancé.

 "What do you think that's about?" Alois questioned curiously.

 Ciel's eyes were focused on the beauty of the garden and he lifted his tea cup to his lips. "Whatever it is can't be pleasant."

 Alois nodded in agreement, absentmindedly stroking the sleeves of his shirt that hid the various bruises on his skin.

 "I've been worried about you, you know."

 Ciel looked over at his friend. "Whatever for?"

 "You've seemed so sullen."

 "It's hard to be content," Ciel admitted. "Each day brings me closer to marrying the bastard and France is falling apart at the seams."

 Though Ciel knew in his heart that those weren't the true reasons for his depression. 

 Alois nodded once more, fresh tears speckling his eyes. "I fear our beloved country may never be the same again."

 Ciel agreed with Alois. Things were changing fast. It was amazing how tranquil life had been, only for it to become hell so quickly. Ciel had been sure that he would lead in his father's footsteps and pave a way for his own children to follow. But now that everything had changed, he was uncertain about his life, and he was also uncertain about the very fate of France.

 But there was one thing he was certain about: whatever William and Claude were discussing inside was definitely more frightening than any decided fate.

* * *

 

 "What is this about, Claude?" William asked. He was aware of how devious his friend was and he knew the games that Claude played, and he wasn't about to jump in the middle of one. William didn't believe that he needed to have tricks up his sleeve; he believed that he could bend anything to his advantage with the use of force.

 "We have a predicament, a _large_ predicament," Claude explained in a low voice. "And I know how to fix it."

 William shook his head. "I will not allow it, Faustus. Your schemes may be the downfall of you but they will not be the downfall of me."

 "Didn't you hear me? We have a problem. We'll need to work together to fix it, but I already have a plan."

 "And what problem is that?"

 "The servants are against us."

 William's expression immediately became grim and his eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

 "The Trancy butler, Canterbury, has been meeting with the Anafeloz girl at night. And they've been talking."

 William paced back and forth. "I knew she was up to something. I never liked that bitch."

 "They must eavesdrop on conversations," Claude continued. "They discuss what they predict our plans are and they say they do not trust us. Eventually, I suspect they'll act."

 "I can't imagine that they'll accomplish anything," William breathed. "Though these secret meetings at night are an issue."

 "I know how to stop it," Claude claimed.

 "Faustus..." William started, his voice filled with uncertainty.

 "And," Claude interrupted, his malevolent grin stretching his lips. "It will bring Phantomhive to his knees."

 "To his knees?" William repeated, his eyebrows raised.

 "Oh yes," Claude continued, his sneer widening. "He'll practically be begging for you. He'll do whatever you wish him to. You'll have him kneeling at your feet. Can you imagine?"

 William shuddered at the thought, his insides coursing with sudden heat. "And why would you help me?"

 "I'm merely trying to help us both," Claude vowed. "You see, I am a private person, and I will not stand for a couple of servants sticking their noses where they don't belong. My business is private, and I'd like it to stay that way."

 William's sharp eyes stared into Claude's and he extended his hand. "We have an agreement. Just explain what you need of me."

 Claude beamed victoriously and he shook William's hand. "You won't regret this."

* * *

 

 In all honesty, Alois didn't know what he was doing. He didn't know why this seemed like a good idea or how he even thought of it in the first place.

 However, Alois was a spontaneous person. He knew that it was a terrible idea.

 But he didn't care.

 He was tired of feeling so unwanted and alone. Before Claude came into his life, Alois was able to visit Ciel every day or even go to the market by himself to splurge on exotic foods and spices. Now that Claude was in the picture, he barely got to see Ciel. He was never allowed to go somewhere alone, and he didn't receive any attention from Claude. Canterbury was always loyal, but he had duties around the manor, so he never had time to talk; and Alois hardly ever spoke to his mother.

 But tonight would be different. Tonight he would get to do whatever he desired, without Claude's permission. He was through with behaving the way he was expected; he figured he deserved to have some fun.

 Alois dug through the various garments that he owned, finding a white button up shirt and a pair of old green pants that he always thought were ugly.

 "These will be perfect," Alois decided, an excited smile lighting up his face.

 He wasted no time getting to work. He tugged and pulled with all of his might, and even though the boy didn't have much strength, he managed to rip the green pants within a few tugs. He then ripped the sleeves of the white shirt and crumpled the fabric to make it appear less expensive and neat. 

 The pants that had originally brushed against his ankles now barely covered his knees. The left leg was slightly longer than the right, but that made them look even better. The white dress shirt that had cuffed formally around his wrists was now torn around his elbows and entirely wrinkled.

 Last but not least, Alois pulled out the old cap that his deceased father had left him; the _only_ thing his deceased father left him. He could remember his father wearing the hat no matter where he went, except for in a few cases where he wore a top hat to seem more formal. But, on a typical basis, Alois's father would wear that hat every moment of his life.

 "Someday it might fit you, lad," his father had said, ruffling up his child's hair.

 "When will it fit me, Father?" Alois asked, his big eyes shining.

 "Soon. Maybe even in a few years, but I'm sure you won't want this old thing by then."

 Looking into the basin of water that rested by his armoire, he stared deeply into his reflection's eyes as he slipped the perfectly fitted cap onto his head, a small sigh escaping his lips.

_I still want it, Pops. I wouldn't trade it for anything._

 Shaking his head, Alois attempted to flush out the memories. He didn't have time for his feelings to get the better of him. He had to go. _Now._

 The boy strode over to his window and opened it wide, the nighttime breeze hitting his face instantly. He looked to the sky and regarded the billions of stars that hung overhead, highlighted by the glorious moonlight. Alois carefully grabbed ahold of a long vine that stretched from the ground to nearly the top of the Trancy manor, and, with precision and cautious manuevering, he swung his body out of the window.

 Alois's chest hit the outside of the manor with a slight _thud,_ and he cursed quietly to himself. Then, he began slowly climbing his way down the vine, leisurely getting closer and closer to the ground.

 Once Alois felt his feet touch the earth he let go of the vine and breathed in relief; he hadn't expected his plan to work in his favor. Nevertheless, it did work in his favor, so he would continue with his plan accordingly. He crouched down and smeared his hands in the dirt that he stood in, then wiped said dirt onto his shirt and pants. He may not look completely pristine already, but there was no way he was going to take chances on people questioning the cleanliness of his clothing.

 After he deemed himself dirty enough, he rose back onto his feet and let out a nervous gasp.

_This is it. No going back. This is my night._

 Then Alois sprinted off into the darkness.

* * *

 

 Music and cheers filled the cool night air, softly echoing against the cobblestone streets. During the daytime, this was not permitted, as many nobles would complain about the noise, and they'd most likely detest the happiness that it brought others, as well. But at night, things were different. The nobles were sleeping in their fanciful beds, unaware of the busyness that was going on in the streets and alleyways. Additionally, during the daytime, the guards were stiff and violent, ready to dispose of anyone who stood in their way, where as at night, the friendlier atmosphere was almost infectious, and the guards were a little more understanding.

 "Tommy, my boy!" A grown man exclaimed, slapping a younger man's back. "How's serving the old king?"

 "Exciting as ever," the guard answered with a crooked grin. "If he's not fuming over an execution, he's furious over his belly popping his garments."

 Laughter followed the man's response and it blended in with the various conversations that others were having, all of them smiling and enjoying themselves.

 Sebastian simply stood and glanced around, observing the crowd surrounding him. These nightly gatherings were nothing new. In fact, they had been happening approximately every night before he was even born. Most -- if not all -- of the peasants came together at the same time every night just to have a good time. There was music, liquor, and the occasional meal, (if they were lucky to find one.) 

 It was always an inviting environment. Sure, there were occasions where some got a little too drunk and started a fight, but usually everyone behaved themselves well. After all, the only people the peasants had were each other, so they needed to make the best of it.

 Sebastian glanced around, his eyes flicking over the scenery. There was an abundance of memories that filled this place. He remembered having his first dance with a girl here when he was only eleven; his clumsy movements eventually chased the girl away, but it was still fun, no matter. He also had his first kiss in this very place when he was fifteen, which luckily went better than his first dance. At seventeen, he consumed his first bottle of alcohol while he was here, as well, and needless to say that was definitely a night that he didn't want to relive. Hell, he even met Bardroy here. It was amazing that such a small event, one that had taken place in the dirty streets for years, was such a large part of his life. 

 "Here, I got a drink for ya," Bard said, offering Sebastian a glass of liquor while he clutched another in his opposite hand.

 "Thanks," Sebastian mumbled, grabbing the pint.

 "No problem," Bard replied, a hiccup escaping his throat. "That's what buddies are for."

 Sebastian glanced at Bard, noticing that his friend's right eye was swollen to the point where he couldn't even raise his eyelid, the huge bruise a purplish-black hue.

 "I'm really sorry, Bard," Sebastian confessed, unable to hide his guilt any longer. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I just got so angry..."

 "Don't worry about it," Bard clucked, waving his hand. "If you woulda said the same thing about Fran Chrailey I woulda smacked you right in the kisser, too."

 A small smile crossed Sebastian's lips. "You were right. I was dedicating myself to a person that I never had a chance with in the first place, and for nothing. I mean, I have you. What else could a guy ask for?"

 Bard beamed and raised his glass. "More liquor."

 Sebastian laughed and he raised his glass as well, then took generous drinks of the dark alcohol.

 "Hey! Watch where you're going!"

 Both Bard and Sebastian raised their heads at the shout, and some of the conversations died down, as well.

 "What was that about?" Sebastian wondered aloud.

 "It sounded like Henry," Bard said. "I wonder if he got too drunk again."

 "I-I'm sorry-"

 "Who are you, anyway? I've never seen you around before!"

 More conversations silenced as everyone became more interested in the commotion. Sebastian leaned right and left as he struggled to get a view of the situation, but he couldn't see anything over the heads and bodies of others.

 "I'm going to move to the front and see what's going on," Sebastian murmured to his friend.

 Bard lifted his glass in agreement. "I'll be here."

* * *

 

 Alois was amazed. He had never seen anything like it before. Many times he had wandered on his own and found surprising things, but never like this. 

 He watched from afar as peasants smiled and giggled, drinking alcohol and conversing with one another. Cheerful music floated in the air, inviting some to dance around joyously. He even spotted guards in the crowd, something that definitely shocked him. As a noble, he witnessed many guards push the poorer class around, sometimes even beat them to the ground. The guards clearly despised the indigents more than anything in the world, but tonight it was entirely different. There were guards in the group of peasants. Talking. Laughing. Carrying on as if they didn't have a care in the world.

  _Almost as if they are all equal,_ Alois thought, and he slowly made his way over to the gathering, eager to see what was going on.

 He hadn't realised how close he had gotten to the people until he was only a few feet away from the interactions, the music that filled his ears now ringing in louder and clearer. A smile lit up Alois's face as he drank in the environment, the happiness around him starting to become contagious.

 He started to make his way into the group of people when he felt himself accidentally step on somebody's foot.

 "Hey! Watch where you're going!" The large man boomed, and Alois's smile immediately dissipated and his face paled.

 "I-I'm sorry-" He whimpered, but he was cut off.

 "Who are you anyway? I've never seen you around before!"

 Alois gulped. "I-I am Al-"

 "Well?" The man bellowed, clearly not hearing Alois's reply. At this point, many people were watching him, waiting for his answer.

_I can't tell him my real name or else they'll know who I am,_ Alois realised. He was about to open his mouth to talk, but a different voice spoke up.

 "He said his name is Al."

 The big man looked around. "Who said that?"

 A younger man stepped into view, his slender body sliding through the crowd easily. Alois blinked in utter shock as the man trekked to the front, saying quiet 'pardons' the whole way. Once he made it, Alois was stunned once more.

  _He looks so flawless._

 "Sebastian? You know about this lad?" The frightening man asked.

 The younger man who had spoken up, whom was presumed to be Sebastian, shrugged his shoulders. "I've never seen him before in my life. But I heard him say his name was Al."

 The bigger guy fixed his eyes on Alois. "You said your name's Al?"

 Alois swallowed and nodded. "Yeah, Al. That's me."

 Sebastian patted the man on the back. "Now, how about we go back to having a good time? I'm sure Al didn't mean to bump into you, so let's just move along."

 The man huffed angrily but he stayed silent. Sebastian smiled and his eyes traveled back over to Alois.

 "So, Al, would you like a drink?"

 Alois fluttered his eyes before smiling. "Oh, um. Yes! Yes, a drink would be lovely."

 Sebastian led Alois through the crowd, allowing him to be in the middle of all of the excitement. He watched as couples danced and giggled, children ran around playing with one another, and men drank happily.

 "This is my friend Bardroy," Sebastian introduced, and a blond male smiled drunkenly.

 "Heya, stranger," Bard greeted, a few hiccups interrupting his words.

 "Oh my goodness," Alois gasped, unable to help it. "Your eye! Is it okay?"

 "You're not lookin' too gorgeous yourself, lad," Bard muttered, and a light blush rose in Alois's cheeks.

 "He's right," Sebastian commented, gently placing his thumb on the boy's cheekbone. "Your left eye is bruised and it looks like your lip is split open, not to mention the bruises and cuts on your legs and arms. Are you all right, Al?"

 Alois's blush darkened and he flinched out of Sebastian's grasp. "I'm fine, I promise."

 Sebastian blinked, his eyes filled with concern. "Are you sure?"

 "Yeah, are you sure, kid?" Bard slurred. "You look awful."

 "Forgive my friend," Sebastian muttered, cutting his eyes toward said friend. "Bardroy tends to forget his manners when he's drunk."

 Alois fixed his gaze on the ground, the blush in his cheeks refusing to fade away.

_I just met him and he's already worried about me? He cares that I'm hurt?_

 "Anyway," Sebastian began, shaking his head at Bard's foolishness and shooting Alois a genuine smile. "How about we try to have some fun, Al?"

 Alois raised his eyes to look at Sebastian. "J-just the two of us?"

 "Yes, just the two of us."

 Alois beamed and he nodded ecstatically.

  _This is my night, and I want to spend it with Sebastian._

* * *

 

 Ciel stared out of the window, his terrifying facial features no longer having an effect on him. He had gotten used to the dark circles that were starting to appear below his eyes and the tears he continuously cried were starting to become a routine. He knew it wasn't normal. But he was getting used to it.

 It was late. Very late. Ciel could tell that it was late because he no longer heard his parents nor William conversing, and he no longer saw the flickering of a candlelight beneath his door. Everyone was surely asleep.

 Except for Ciel.

 He couldn't sleep.

 Wouldn't sleep.

 Even if he wanted to, it would be impossible for him to calm his mind long enough to let him rest.

 But tonight felt different. Tonight he felt very odd. Unlike his usual desire to be alone and cry by himself, he was starting to feel extremely lonely. A feeling he knew all too well but desperately tried to avoid. It was unavoidable tonight, however.

 Ciel sighed and raked his fingers through his hair, the locks slightly sticking to the wet tears on his face.

_I need a drink_ , he decided, and he began to walk away from the window and head out into the hallway. He padded down the long corridor and continued down the staircase, making sure that his footsteps were quiet.

 Ciel entered the parlor and found his father's not-so-secret stash of alcohol, and, settling for rum, Ciel took a long swig from the bottle.

 "Not the most ladylike thing to do," Ciel muttered, taking another drink from the bottle.

 He was unsure if it was his anxiety or if it was the warm liquor that was sloshing around in his insides, but a sudden thought struck him, one that wasn't very pleasant. He hadn't pondered it earlier, but it was peculiar that he hadn't seen her around the manor all day.

_Where is Hannah?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh. So dramatic. :o Especially Claude. Who could have guessed that someone as plain as Claude could cause so much drama?  
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! More coming soon! ^-^


	9. Diary Entry #228 Continued

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ello kitlets! I already have another update! Not because I fixed my computer, but I had a sudden idea slap me in the face, so I went with it. Most of this chapter wasn't planned, so if it's horrible, I'm sorry.  
> I wanted to take this chapter to show you how sick and twisted Claude really is in this story. Most of you already know he's an ass, but this shows that he's probably a little more demented than you originally thought.  
>  And I promise, this story is still going to be focused around Sebastian and Ciel. I'm planning on making this a lengthy story so just give it some time; they will reunite, I promise.  
> Also, I am not trying to bash anyone's religion in any way. In this story, Claude just happens to hate everything religious, so please remember that I do respect everyone's religion, where as Claude does not.  
> Geez I talk a lot. Enjoy the chapter kitlets! ^-^

The Duke of Marche had never believed in Heaven.

 Truthfully, he wasn't a religious person at all. He didn't believe that some God had created this land and still looked over the land today. What a ridiculous belief. And he thought that every single noble and clergyman who believed that story was an utter moron.

 Claude believed that power ruled over all. He believed that those who have the most power in the world were the true gods. He believed that power was the most vital thing anyone could possess. Therefore, he strove to become the most powerful man in France; perhaps he would possibly become King some day. He wouldn't have any problem assasinating the king if he knew that he would receive the throne. He would kill anyone to gain that amount of power, and he planned on it. After all, he was nearly positive he wouldn't go to Hell for it. Sometimes he actually liked to believe that he was the Devil himself. That thought always put a smile on his face.

 So, Claude never believed in Heaven, Hell, nor God. But if there was a heaven, tonight would be it. This was the closest thing to bliss Claude had ever felt, aside from the time he impaled his father in the chest with his own sword. That felt delightful, as well. But tonight felt _better._

 The duke had departed from the Trancy manor around dusk, wanting to start his search as early as he possibly could. Before he left, he had went to the bedroom to check on Alois and make sure the boy was in his proper place, which he was; he had been preparing to go to bed, as he felt weak and very tired.

 Good. He _should_ feel weak. That was his job as Claude's wife. To feel weak and lesser than him. To be completely submissive and agreeable to all of Claude's decisions and desires. And if he wasn't, he would be punished severely. Just as any rebelling wife should be. It was that simple.

 But he didn't want to dwell on thoughts of Alois tonight. Tonight wasn't about Alois. It was _never_ about Alois. He didn't care for the boy a smidge, though sometimes he would allow his mind to wander to worthless thoughts of him. But that wasn't allowed tonight. Tonight, it was all about Claude in every way.

 "Oh, Mr. Faustus," the woman chirped in surprise. "Do come in."

 Claude smirked as he entered her home, the warmth of a crackling fire greeting him immediately. "How do you do, Lady?" He asked while he removed his top hat and began shedding his outerwear.

 "Well, thank you. Your company was unexpected..."

 The duke laid his hat and coat on one of the two rocking chairs that sat in front of the fire. "Where is your husband?"

 A flicker of sadness briefly crossed the woman's eyes. "He's very sick, as you know."

 Claude nodded. "That I do."

 "And he is away for the night. He has gone to see a renowned doctor a few towns away, and he will not be back until daybreak."

 "How unfortunate," he murmured, letting his golden irises wander up and down the contours of her body. "I'm aware that he's getting very old and frail. How very considerate of you to tend to his needs."

 The woman noticed his obvious gawking and she blushed deeply and crossed her arms defensively. "It's a wife's duty to serve her husband well, you know. I was aware of that fact when I married and I accepted that responsibility accordingly."

 "Indeed it is," Claude agreed, his devious grin finally making an appearance. "On the subject of marital duties, I'm sure you know the circumstances of my marriage."

 The lady raised an eyebrow. "Your wedding to Lord Trancy was recently, was it not?"

 "It was," he nodded, his smile widening. "What a clever woman you are."

 She gasped and took a few steps back out of realisation. "No... that's why you're here!"

 "It's been months, Dear," Claude said, feigning hurt. "I've missed you so very much."

 "I am a married woman!" She protested. "My husband-"

 "That never stopped you before," Claude hissed, quickly making his way over to the woman and pushing his body against hers. He ran his fingers through her short red hair and smiled. "Remember all those good memories we made? In the carriage on your way to visit me in Marche, in my expensive sheets while the snow littered the land, even in the alleyway where you didn't care how loud you moaned. And every single time while you were with me, your husband was at home, receiving treatments for his illness, correct? He was probably sitting in one of those rocking chairs, letting out desperate groans and ailing cries, hoping and praying that you would be home soon to surround him with your supporting arms and your gentle care. And where were you, Lady Durless? You were with me, your legs spread and your mouth agape in pleasure."

 Tears filled Angelina's eyes and she shook her head. "No, it wasn't like that-"

 "Oh, but it was," Claude snarled, grabbing the woman's chin with his strong hand and forcing her to look into his eyes. "You couldn't give a damn about your husband. He did nothing for you and he still doesn't. You only desire _me._ A man that can pleasure you time and time again, one that could shower you in riches and give you the world if you so wished for it. One that would take care of you instead of you taking care of him. One that would _cherish_ you."

 "You would not cherish me, Claude Faustus," Angelina spat. "You are a married man seeking out intercourse with a married woman. You think nothing of me."

 "You've gotten it all wrong," the duke insisted, running his hands down Lady Durless's hips. "I think nothing of my wife, but I think _everything_ of you. Alois can only provide so much for me, Lady. He only entertains me so far. I am merely the same as every other noble, Madame. I seek to carry on my bloodline and build a strong foundation for the Faustus name. I cannot reproduce and carry on my bloodline with Alois, though I wish that I could do so. I have not come for mere intercourse with you, rather I come here hopeful that you will bear my children.

 "You are my love, Angelina Durless," Claude professed, placing his hands on both sides of her face and wiping the tears off of her cheeks. "I, a duke with a portion of the utmost power, beg of you to bless me with the gift of fatherhood."

 Angelina was overcome by Claude's declaration. She knew that he could see right through her. She had desired him. Ever since their first sensual meeting years ago, she craved his precense constantly. She wished that he would be in her bed with her at nightfall, making love to her until exhaustion washed over them both. She wished her husband would just die from his illness already, so he could sweep her off her feet and marry her, then provide her with whatever she wanted. But then he got married to Alois Trancy, and her hopes and dreams of one day being his wife were crushed. Until tonight. Until he came here with the shocking confession that Angelina never expected to hear in her life. 

 So she gave into him. She let him shove her against the wall and lift her skirt up, squeezing her thighs with his tightest grip. She opened her legs willingly for him, letting him thrust inside her deeply while she moaned as loud as she could. She gladly allowed Claude to thrash her against the wall and floor, and she submissively let him hold her down and take over her body completely.

 The lust was thick in the air as the two had intercourse in every crevice of the house. They traveled from the wall to the floor, then to the chairs in the living room to the bedroom that Angelina typically shared with her husband.

 The sounds the two made were so animalistic it was delicious. Claude enjoyed every moment he had of pounding into his lover, relishing how she was so submissive to his actions, where as his usual spitfire of a wife was not. But he was okay with that. He had much more fun when they put up a fight.

 Claude left the Durless home two hours later, his desires merely quenched rather than fulfilled. That Angelina was a foolish woman. He would never love her. He would never have feelings for her in the slightest. He didn't want to have a child with her. In all actuality, he didn't want children at all. He felt as if he was married to a child already, and that annoyed him enough. He wouldn't put up with an actual child. They were unintelligent and incapable of performing effortless tasks. He was simply doing this because this is what was expected of him. And, well, he loved intercourse more than anything in the world.

 But Claude wasn't finished. No, he was just getting started. He wanted more, so he'd get more. It wasn't hard to find. However, Claude didn't settle for the typical whores on the streets. Most of them were peasants, and who knows what disgusting things lie in their bodies. Claude wouldn't associate himself with that kind. But, that was perfectly all right, for there were plenty of duchesses, ladies, and even countesses that would willingly throw themselves at the Duke of Marche. Most of them had before, and the majority of those women's husbands were old noblemen who were beginning to slow down their lives, where as their wives were still young and thriving, practically begging to be played with. Claude gave them what they wanted. He made them all feel as if they were special and unique in their own way, and they blossomed from the individualized attention he provided. The best part was there were no strings attached. He could leave as soon as he was satisfied, and the next day he would most likely pass one of those women in the streets, her arm linked in her husband's. Her husband would stop and have a friendly chat with the duke, and Claude would be able to smile at them both in a seemingly pleasant fashion, though he would be snickering inside at the irony of her trembling and quivering from the way he touched her, and her husband completely unaware of the affair that they had.

 It was all very pleasing. These women gave him so much power, and in return he gave them the false feeling of love. This knowledge left Claude feeling exhilirated and energized. Tonight, his goal would be to tell all of these women the same thing he told Angelina; he would give them a fake sense of hope. Then he'd take everything that he wanted from them and leave them as soon as he was done.

 And in the end, he knew that he would come home to fragile little Alois, curled up in their bed, awaiting Claude's return home. Then, as soon as Claude returned, Alois would receive his own bit of pleasure.

 It was the very definition of Heaven.

* * *

 

 But Alois wasn't curled up in his bed. He wasn't shaking from fright in his sleep, dreading the moment when Claude came home and demanded sex from him, then beat him if he denied it or it wasn't up to par with the bastard's standards. 

 Alois was actually having an enjoyable time. He was having much more fun than he had in a long, long while. And it was all thanks to Sebastian.

_"Un, deux, trois!"_ Sebastian counted, then he and Alois began downing their pints of liquor. Excited cheers from the crowd hooped and hollered as the two boys drank as fast as they could.

 Sebastian sputtered and choked when he couldn't continue any longer, and he lowered his glass that was still 1/3 full. Contrarily, at the same time, Alois took his final swallow and raised his empty glass victoriously. The peasants cheered ecstatically and Bardroy let out a howl.

 "Give the lad another pint!" He cried.

 Alois beamed triumphantly and Sebastian gave him a congratulatory pat on the back.

 "Very impressive, Al. You sure can handle your liquor."

 Alois blushed. "I don't usually drink much."

 "Another reason to give him another pint!" Bardroy encouraged.

 "I don't drink very often either," Sebastian admitted, grabbing two more glasses of alcohol and handing one to Alois. "But everyone needs to drink their problems away at some point, yeah?"

 Alois grabbed the glass from Sebastian and took a sip. "I agree. What problems are you drinking away?"

 Sebastian's expression turned grim as he took a drink, as well. "I recently had my heart broken."

 The boy's eyes instantly widened. "Somebody broke your heart? Who would do such a thing?"

 "Many people probably would, so no need for flattery," Sebastian chuckled. "But it was a weird thing. I didn't know the person very well. I probably couldn't answer many questions if you asked about them, either. I just felt a connection with them. Whenever I looked into their eyes, I saw something meaningful. Something that could possibly transform into a very beautiful connection."

 Alois's eyes were opened fully in adoration and fascination; Sebastian didn't notice, he just simply shook his head.

 "But I suppose there was nothing in their eyes after all. I was merely clinging onto the hope that there would be a chance for us, when really we weren't meant to have a chance in the beginning.

 "So what about you? What are the troubles that you're drinking away?"

 Alois blinked a few times, his trance broken. "I- um. Close to the same thing, actually."

 Sebastian leaned back and took a drink. "Ah. Some little girlie break your heart?"

 "Something like that," Alois mumbled. "I'm actually married."

 Sebastian's eyes dilated in surprise. "You're married?"

 "Yeah."

 "You look a little young to be married," he commented.

 Alois chewed on his lip nervously. "My wife's father was killed by a guard and her mother died in childbirth. She didn't have anyone else left. So I married her to give her extra support."

 "Geez, kid," Bardroy shrugged, his drunken eyes touched with sadness. "That's actually pretty depressing."

 "It must be tough," Sebastian added.

 Alois felt guilty for lying about his marriage, but he nodded, nevertheless. "As hard for us as it is for any peasant. I just wanted to make it a little less harsh for her."

 "You're a good guy, Al," Sebastian said with a smile. "I would do whatever I could for my love, as well. Unfortunately I can't do many things for them, not as many things as I wish I could. If it were up to me, I'd give my life if I knew it would make them happy. But alas, I don't believe I am proficient enough to ensure such a thing."

 Upon hearing these words, Alois's eyes twinkled with fresh tears. "Sebastian..."

 "This conversation got awful miserable," Bard interrupted. "Now I'm thinkin' that I'll never have a shot at impressin' Fran."

 Sebastian shot his friend a sad smile. "You're right. Tonight we were going to have fun, so let's brighten this conversation up."

 "Sounds good to me," Bard slurred.

 Sebastian glanced at Alois. "What do you think, Al?"

 Alois stared at the ground grimly. "Yeah, sounds great."

* * *

 

 "Oh! Yes! Claude!"

 "Scream louder. Louder!"

 "Claude! Oh!"

 Claude gave a few final thrusts as the woman cried his name repeatedly, her voice already sounding hoarse from the yelling. The duke sighed quietly as he finished, and he immediately pulled out of the woman. 

 "Oh, Claude," she breathed, her arms sprawled out above her in relaxation. "I'm so glad you chose me to have your child."

 Claude climbed off the bed and grabbed his clothes. He smirked at her while he began to get redressed. "Of course, Dearest. There is no other I would rather give the honor to."

 "But what will my husband say when he finds out?" 

 "He won't find out, believe me," Claude assured. "I will take care of everything, my love."

 After Claude finished getting dressed and saying his goodbyes, he left. His night had been very eventful.

 "Seven women," Claude said to himself, a malicious smile plastered on his face. "Seven women carelessly gave themselves to me tonight, and I'm sure I could find more if I so desired.

 "It is rather late, though," Claude commented, his smile slowly fading to his normally bored expression. "I suppose I should go home and check on Alois."

 Then, almost as if it never faded, another grin parted his lips.

  _After all, once I'm done with him, I'll be able to play with my new toy._

* * *

 

 Ciel knew about Hannah's meetings with Canterbury at night. Hannah didn't think that anyone knew, but he knew. That's why he figured since he couldn't find a trace of Hannah at the Phantomhive estate, there was only one other logical place she would be.

 The Trancy manor.

 So what did Ciel have in mind? Well, the only rational thing a half-drunken boy would do.

 He planned on heading over there. Immediately. To hell with the time. He knew it was late at night. But he didn't care. He wanted to find Hannah, and he assumed the Trancy residence would be a good place to start looking.

 The young lord snuck out of his home with ease, quietly slinking around until he was finally outside the Phantomhive gates. Normally, he'd be afraid of walking in the dark; this fact was obvious, as he had requested Sebastian walk him home that one night. But Ciel wasn't entirely himself at the moment. He was obviously intoxicated, and he was swaying and stumbling as he began his trip to the Trancy manor.

 Ciel tripped a little and he halted briefly to catch his balance. This was a horrible idea. Why had Ciel left in the first place?

_Oh, right. To find Hannah,_ Ciel remembered, and he forced his body to move forward.

 Luckily, the gates that seperated Ciel from the Trancy estate weren't locked, and he was able to stride right in. Had he been sober, Ciel would most likely be suspicious of the unlocked gates, and he'd even be tempted to turn around and return home. However, he wasn't sober, and he allowed the alcohol that swam through his bloodstream to do the reasoning for him.

 Ciel had begun to reach for the door when a bloodcurdling scream stopped him and made his stomach churn.

_"Help me!"_

 It was a woman's voice, and it cut through him like a blade. The very sound sobered him up a bit, and he was now trembling with fear.

  _It sounded as if it came from inside the manor,_ Ciel thought, his heart beating loud and fast.

  _"God, no! Someone, HELP ME!"_

 He was sure of it this time. There was no doubt. The scream was definitely coming from inside the Trancy home.

 Ciel pushed the door open forcefully and entered the house, his eyes scanning the area. He hadn't thought to bring a light, since the moon had lit his path fairly well.

  _How foolish of me,_ Ciel thought bitterly. _Now I won't be able to see a bloody thing._

 The boy had excellent hearing, though, and where his eyes failed him in the darkness, his ears guided him. He couldn't hear any more screaming, but he did make out faint whimpering and the quiet mumbles of a voice. Ciel slowly treaded around in the darkness, listening as hard as he could. After walking a few feet to the right, he noticed that the whimpering seemed to get a bit louder, so he continued traveling in that direction.

 Eventually, the increasing volume of the sobs led him to a set of stairs, and Ciel gulped nervously.

_The Trancy's underground wine cellar._

 He had went down in the wine cellar a few times with Alois, but that was years ago, back when Alois's father was still alive. He did remember how large the underground cellar was, however. There were at least five rooms down there, possibly more, all housing different types of wine. Ciel remembered his friend's father being a fanatic for wine, so he built a cellar big enough to hold all of his favorite kinds. This nerved Ciel, because where there was plenty of space, there was plenty of room to be hiding in the darkness.

_"P-please..."_

 The woman's snivels brought Ciel back to reality and he took a deep breath.

_I must be brave. It is my duty as a lord to rescue a lady in trouble._

 Though his logic reasoned against it, the boy cautiously stepped down the old, creaky stairs, wary that attackers may be close. It was utterly dark in the cellar, but he continued to use his one and only successful tactic; he relied on his ears. 

 Ciel reached the bottom of the stairs and he bit his lip once his feet touched the floor.

  _Now, I must listen._

 The mumbling was now louder and clearer, though Ciel still couldn't discern who it was or what they were saying. He deduced that the mumbling voice was deep in the cellar, most likely in a room in the very back. The whimpering had ceased, which heightened his nerves to a dangerous level.

 Heart palpitating furiously and nervous breaths frequently escaping his lips, Ciel briskly walked as fast as he could toward the back of the cellar, the noises becoming more coherent with each step he took. He needed to brace himself for whatever he found at the end, but he didn't know how. He had no idea what to expect, and whatever it was, he was facing it alone. He hadn't even thought to grab his pistol before he left home, nor his knife that he hid in his dresser.

  _This is the last night I ever indulge in liquor,_ Ciel decided.

 The boy slowed down when he saw a faint yellow light glowing from inside a room ahead. Now, he could almost make out what the voice was saying.

  _They're definitely in that room,_ Ciel figured, and he eyed the room in suspicion and fright.

 Slowly, he took small steps toward the room, the light getting brighter and the voice becoming clear as day. Ciel kept his back to the wall as he inched closer, and he secretly peered into the room.

 A gasp caught in Ciel's throat, nearly choking him. Whatever alcohol content that had still been in his body was definitely gone now. The sight before him swept away his intoxication and made his face pale. His stomach flopped and he was afraid he might vomit.

 The room was devoid of all wine. Ciel didn't see a single wine bottle. Instead, there was a small desk inside the room, a lit candle placed atop of it to provide the room with light. A woman was bound on the back wall, all of her limbs seperately held down with chains. Her dress was caked with dirt and her hair was wild; she kept her head down. But this wasn't any woman.

_It's Hannah,_ Ciel realised, dread washing over him. 

 The Phantomhive maid began whimpering once again, her whole body appearing to tremble in absolute terror. And to Ciel's utter disbelief, Claude Faustus was standing directly in front of her, smiling.

 "You've been a bad girl," he whispered, placing his hands on both sides of her face.

 "Let me go!" Hannah cried, throwing her head left and right in attempt to shake his hands away.

 "I cannot oblige. You haven't received your punishment yet."

 Ciel's eyes were practically bulging out of his head. _It was Claude. He kidnapped Hannah! But he wasn't anywhere near the manor..._

 Ciel blinked in realisation. _Yes, he was, when he met with..._

 A growl caught in his throat. _...William_.

 "Let me go, you bastard! I will not stand for this!"

 Claude slammed one of his hands down on Hannah's throat, making her wheeze in pain. "And what are you to do? You are a servant. You obey orders, you do not make them. And you're going to obey my orders now."

 Tears streamed down Hannah's face as Claude ripped the front of her dress, exposing her entire chest. Claude slid his hands over her breasts and squeezed tightly, Hannah sobbing as he did so.

 "What a little harlot you are," Claude breathed into her ear, his tongue snaking down her cartilage. "It feels nice, doesn't it?"

 Never had Ciel experienced such rage as he did now. He was ready to tear Claude apart with his bare hands. If he had brought his pistol, which he wished he had, then the bastard would already be dead on the ground. Ciel was ready to strike. He was ready to _kill._ But he was unsure if Claude possessed a weapon, and he was afraid of Hannah getting hurt in the process.

 Hannah's loud cries stabbed Ciel directly in the heart, and he decided that he didn't care what happened to him.

 He had to save the woman that he considered to be his _real_ mother.

 "Claude Faustus! Stop this at once!"

 Instantly, both Claude and Hannah froze in silence. 

 "Ciel," Hannah choked out, her teary eyes focused on the boy in the doorway.

 Claude let go of Hannah and he turned around, his malevolent grin spreading across his lips as he regarded Ciel.

 "If it isn't Ciel Phantomhive. Now the _real_ party commences."

* * *

 

  **Un, deux, trois! - One, two, three!**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Claude's pretty sickening. I hope I conveyed that well enough in this chapter, (not sure if I'm terrible at writing disturbing stuff or not) but he really is a terrible person.  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter considering most of it was "improv" I guess you could say. I always love to hear from you guys so let me know! ^-^  
> More chapters coming soon!


	10. Diary Entry #228 (Conclusion)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see, my fabulous kitlets! I know it's been a long time since I updated this, but it hasn't been a year, so I am getting a little better with my updates, right?  
> I hope you enjoy the chapter! ^-^

William closed his eyes, his shaky lips parting as he let out a resonating exhale. His tongue darted out to dampen the trembling, plump flesh that composed his mouth, and the chartreuse pigments in his eyes gleamed with uncertainty. He didn't know why he was such a wreck, nor did he have an explanation for why he transformed into a pathetic coward every time he prepared to speak with Ciel.

 Well, that wasn't entirely true. William knew that feelings made people foolish, and he couldn't deny the strong emotions he felt for Ciel. Of course, he wasn't perfect, for the boy had stubborn tendencies, and he also seemed to have commitment issues, considering he locked lips with a peasant, not even reflecting on the potential diseases that he may have had. Simply thinking about it had William convulsing in anger and disgust, but he wouldn't focus on the thoughts of the peasant for now. Ciel was his, completely his, and he'd never have to worry about that filthy vagrant ever again.

  Nervously sliding his hands into his trouser pockets, his right hand curled around the little box that was nestled within the cotton. Even if it was unconventional, he wouldn't turn back now. Raising his twitching arm, he rapped his knuckles against the wooden door, his breathing becoming more ragged as he did so. He tried to listen, but he heard no sounds from behind the entrance. Rocking back on his heels anxiously, he waited a few more seconds before he decided to knock again. It was odd that he wasn't answering, then again, it was very late. However, William was aware that Ciel was a fairly light sleeper, and typically a mere knock on his chamber door would rouse him, yet, for some odd reason, Ciel wasn't answering.

 "Ciel?" William called, bringing his lips close to the door. "I have a gift for you. I know it's ordinarily proper to wait until the wedding, but I'd like you to have this now."

 He waited and listened closely, hoping he would hear scuttling and the padding of his fiancé's feet as he approached to open his door, but it was completely silent. William swallowed awkwardly, straightening his posture and adjusting his glasses. If Ciel had not awoken from the knocking, he would have certainly escaped the realm of sleep at the sound of William's voice. This wasn't normal for the boy; something was clearly crooked.

 Going against all formal mannerisms, William turned the brass handle and pushed the door open without permission, moonlight instantly bathing his face afterward. "Ciel?" He said softly, taking quiet steps into the room. His eyes scanned the surroundings, noting that everything seemed to be in order. His pupils traveled over to Ciel's bed, his eyes squinting as he peered. A breath of relief flooded out of his nostrils when he saw a small bump underneath the comforter, signifying that the boy was curled up in his sleep.

 "Ciel," William breathed, slowly sinking into the plush mattress when he sat on the bed. His hand lightly caressed the mound buried under the blanket, and he licked his lips nervously as he began to fully lie down next to his fiancé, his breath becoming husky and his mouth slightly trembling when he brought his face near the body. Slowly, his fingers crept into the comforter and started to peel away the cover. "I know I shouldn't be here," he rasped. "But I'm willing to bear the consequences."

 Without another word, he threw off the blanket completely, though his expecting expression contorted into one of utter shock when he realised that his fiancé wasn't in his bed. Instead, pillows were responsible for the mirage, as they had been stuffed underneath the comforter prior to its removal. William scrambled to his feet in humiliation, his cheeks flashing pink at the thought of the brewing arousal he had felt from feeling up the feather-stuffed cushion. He slid an overwhelmed hand through the short strands on his head, his face warm with the embarrassment.

 The shameful surprise didn't incapacitate him completely, however, for a spark of concern tickled his insides. Ciel wasn't where he was supposed to be.

 William shot out the door like a bolt of lightning, his legs nearly tripping when he flew down the staircase, going so fast that even his follicles hung on for dear life. He slid past the kitchen, noticing that it was empty. He also scampered past the dining room, and, yet again, Ciel was nowhere to be found. Finally, he checked the parlor, his hurried movements slowing when he observed a glistening bottle that sat on the cocktail table. Striding over to furniture, he picked up the half-consumed bottle, his expression slightly wincing in disgust after seeing that it had made a small smudge on the usually polished surface. His pupils scanned the label, his eyelids narrowing when he saw that it was rum. Clearly, Marquis Phantomhive hadn't left it here, for he would decapitate any fool who drank straight out of his priceless jugs of rum, and he would also behead whoever was incompetent enough to scratch the handcrafted furniture. No, this was Ciel's doing, he was sure of it.

 "So, my fiancé got drunk and snuck out of the manor," William said to himself, hearing the words aloud making his fingers tightly clench the bottle's neck. "And it wouldn't be a stretch to propose that he went to visit the peasant."

 There wasn't a doubt in his mind, now. Where else would Ciel stumble to in an intoxicated state? He had clearly seemed more miserable ever since William forbade him from seeing the grotesque indigent, and alcohol must've easily influenced him to go visit the rat. Well, if that was the case, then their heartfelt reunion was about to get interrupted.

 William stormed out of the manor, his spine as stiff as a board and his complexion as hard as iron. He wouldn't allow Ciel to stain the Spears' perfected reputation, he wouldn't allow this atrocious relationship to continue any longer, he wouldn't allow his fate to be shattered at the hands of some pathetic urchin...

 ...And he certainly wouldn't allow anyone to touch _his_ fiancé.

* * *

 

 William held his nose high as he traversed the alleys, practically pinching his nostrils shut at the smell. Excreta lined the walls of buildings, while peasants tried to huddle away from the waste in corners. Curious eyes watched as William strode by, and William tended to spare them glances as well, noting children's protruding ribcages and untamed faces of men, along with the many different tones of whimpering and crying. They were all clearly starved of nutrients, and many children that he saw curled up on the ground appeared to be orphans. Though William never cared to show them kindness, he did feel a slight pang of pity for the urchins; some people just happened to be cursed with unfortunate fates.

 His shiny black shoes clacked as they repeatedly met with the cobblestone, and his arms moved calmly to-and-fro as he walked, though they were stiff. His irises were charged with nothing but complete resolve, and they glittered behind his spotless spectacles. Turning left, he entered another alleyway, this one not as crowded with peasants as the last. France was notorious for its complicated, winding labyrinth of paths, but William knew exactly where he was going. He would search all of France until he found his fiancé and the horrid scoundrel who stole him away.

 William, though not easily deterred, found his focus wavering when he noticed a blond lad peek out from a corner up ahead, his blue eyes darting every way. The boy then disappeared behind the same corner from which he popped out, and, sparking curiosity in the duke, he sped up his pace to a jog and decided to follow the boy.

 Rounding the bend cautiously, he studied the male as he walked, taking in his poor attire. He was continuously looking from left-to-right in a paranoid manner, and that made William raise an eyebrow. He proceeded to creep behind the boy quietly, trying to think of why he seemed so familiar. Then, the lad turned around, his verdigris orbs locking onto the chartreuse annuli, and it clicked.

 "Alois!" William shouted, causing the boy to gasp and take off running. The duke instantly broke into a sprint, letting out frequent, deep breaths. He chased the boy down through the passage, Alois twisting and turning down other alleyways during the process. Alois' legs were no match for William's slender limbs, however, and soon the duke leaped at him, knocking Alois to the ground. William forced Alois' back to the cobblestone and pinned the boy's arms and legs down. He leaned over Alois with a glare, the two males both panting in exertion.

 "Where is Ciel?" William demanded, his fingers clutching the boy's shoulders painfully.

 "I don't know," Alois gasped breathlessly, his body trying to wiggle out of William's grasp.

 "You're lying! Tell me where he is!"

 "I have no idea!" Alois repeated, his face cringing when William dug his fingers further into his shoulder bones. "I don't know where Ciel is. I didn't even know he was missing! Wherever he went, it wasn't with me."

 William's eyebrow lifted again in wonder, his eyes piercing through the boy beneath him. "Speaking of which, why are you out so late? More importantly, why are you out so late _without_ the presence of Claude?"

  "I- Well, I-" Alois chewed on his lip nervously, his eyes breaking the gaze he held with William and looking off to the side.

 "You snuck out," William realised, his mouth curling in a snarl. "Claude doesn't even know that you're here, does he?"

 Alois didn't respond, he simply mashed on his lower lip with fervor and distanced his eyes away from the duke's cold stare. William snorted, and he let go of one of the boy's arms so he could push his glasses further up his nose.

 "I can't wait for him to see this."

* * *

 

 Claude's attention was now solely on Ciel, and, though it relieved him that he was leaving Hannah alone, it also frightened him beyond belief. As soon as he would take a step toward Ciel, Ciel would immediately step back; he was uncertain of what Claude was capable of, yet fully aware that he was a madman.

 "So, did you burst in here hoping that you could play a part?" Claude questioned with a smirk, stretching his arms out pompously. "Or did you just want to observe?"

 "You're sickening," Ciel spat, his eyebrows furrowing in rage. "But I suppose you're not the only lunatic who played a role in this plot; I assume William was there to help you."

 "It doesn't matter," Claude sighed, his smile spreading as he began to close in on Ciel again. "All that matters is you're here."

 "I don't know why that would matter," Ciel stated a bit anxiously, sliding to the side to avoid the duke. "I have come to retrieve Hannah."

 "And what do I get out of this retrieval?" He asked, placing a dramatic hand across his chest. "I'm afraid it's not fair for you to take something from me and I get nothing in return."

 "She wasn't yours to begin with!" Ciel shouted, saliva practically flying out of his mouth. "And I demand that you release my maid, lest you face the consequences of the law."

 "And who will believe you if you report me?" Claude sneered, his cocky smile slowly fading into a malicious snarl. "No one will believe a little foolish lord and maid over the exalted Duke of Marche."

 Ciel's lips curled back in anger, flashing his fangs at the man. He was aware that what Claude had said was true; it would be their word against his, and they would definitely lose the battle. However, Ciel refused to give up and he stood his ground. "Under the command of the family of Phantomhive, I order you to liberate my maid at once!"

 By now, Claude's expression was warped with fury, his dangerous golden irises gleaming unnaturally. "The Duke of Marche takes orders from no one!" He proclaimed, and he promptly charged at Ciel, the boy too taken aback to dodge the swift action. Claude slammed the boy's back into the wall brutally, shoving his body against the structure while he forced his butt down onto the surface of the desk. Ciel cried out in pain and swatted at the man's face, his right arm delivering a wicked blow to his jaw before Claude was able to pinion his hands together.

 "Ciel!" Hannah cried out, angst-filled tears falling from her eyes. "Let him go, you bastard!"

 "Shut up!" Claude growled, quickly turning his head back to snap at the woman before his focus went back to Ciel. He pinned Ciel's arms above his head with one hand, while his fingers began to tug at the male's trousers. "Ever since I laid eyes on you, I've wanted to ravish your body until you died from the ecstasy," Claude rasped, Ciel turning his head at the nasty breath that spilled as he said the words. "You're too divine to be exclusive to only one man. I deserve to bathe in your essence."

 "Get off me, you grotesque son of a bitch!" Ciel screamed, his body wiggling as he mercilessly kicked at Claude, both of his legs shooting out consistently. He was able to land a few sharp hits to the man's chest before Claude lifted Ciel's legs up, his bottom now facing Claude. He hurriedly tore off Ciel's pants, proceeding to do the same to his underwear.

 "You will rot in hell for this, Duke of Marche!" Hannah declared, but her statement didn't faze the duke. He was now smiling victoriously as he stared at Ciel's bare, perfectly round ass, unable to help the intense salivation he had at the sight of it. Never did he want to pound into someone so badly, and, shifting uncomfortably from the rock hard shaft that struggled against his pants, he was certain that he'd fuck Ciel senselessly.

 "Claude, I have come to return your-" William's speech cut off when he entered the doorway, his eyes wider than the moon itself when he witnessed the situation before him. Alois, whose arm had been clasped onto by William, immediately burst into tears, his body convulsing violently while the sobs poured from him.

 "William," Claude squeaked, before he cleared his voice so his usual monotone frequency returned. "Your entry was unexpected."

 The Duke of Brittany's eyes were narrowed in utter enragement, and he released Alois so he could angrily confront the man whom he was so close to killing. "I suppose I could say the same to you, you abhorrent fustilarian."

 Claude snorted. "It's better than him fucking a lowlife peasant, is it not?"

 "He is _my_ fiancé!" William bellowed. He struck Claude powerfully across the face with his clenched fist, knocking the pathetic excuse for a human away from Ciel. As soon as Ciel was free, he bolted over to Hannah, his hands speedily releasing her limbs from the shackles that bound her. Ciel allowed his weak maid to lean on him as they walked, and he stopped to talk to his crying friend on the way out.

 "Alois, I'm so, so very sorry," Ciel breathed, his hand desperately clutching Hannah's waist.

 "It's not you," Alois wept, lifting his hands to wipe his soaked cheeks. "It's Claude. I know it was Claude. Go, get out of here while you can."

 Ciel nodded, and he and Hannah limped away, heading toward the exit as quickly as they could. Alois turned back to the scene in the room, watching as William relentlessly beat Claude, the latter struggling to fight back. He watched for a few more moments, before he turned and went to head for the exit, as well. He wasn't going to step in; Claude deserved everything that he was getting.

* * *

 

**Diary Entry #229**

* * *

 

 "Ouch," Hannah said softly, flinching a tad when she felt the slight pain.

 "I'm sorry," Ciel breathed, his hand being a little gentler as he patted the bruise on her head with the wet cloth. "I know it must hurt."

 "I've felt worse," Hannah stated honestly, shooting Ciel a tiny smile. He smiled back, and silently continued to cleanse and ease her wounds with the cloth. Last night, Hannah had slept with Ciel in his bed, for they were both too scared to sleep alone, and Ciel refused to let William near them. He did assign William with the responsibility of creating an explanation for Hannah's disappearance when Ciel's parents questioned her absence, and William obliged to the task. Now, Ciel was determined to nurse his maid back to full health, and he swore that he would never let her out of his sight again.

 "I believe the Duke of Brittany had something to do with your kidnapping," Ciel murmured, his hand compressing the wet rag to her forehead once more. "I won't let him around us, especially not around you."

 "Oh, I'm certain of it," Hannah agreed, her solemn eyes regarding Ciel. "It's a shame that you're expected to marry the bastard."

 He frowned at her words, but said nothing; he felt like his expression said it all. He obviously didn't want to marry William, and now he had acquired an even stronger dislike for the man since his beloved friend was put in peril.

 "Ciel?"

 "Yes, Hannah?" Ciel asked, his focus turning to the bowl filled with water that sat next to the bed, his hands dipping the cloth into the liquid.

 "I think you should pursue the peasant."

 Ciel froze, his joints becoming stiff when he heard her words. His eyes leisurely floated over to look at her face, and once he realised that she was serious, he asked in a shaky voice, "w-what?"

 "You won't find your fairytale prince in a land full of toads," Hannah remarked, her loving smile gracing her lips. "And those eyes are glimpsed once in a lifetime, Ciel."

 Ciel's eyes drifted away from his maid as he fell into deep thought, his body still paralyzed in shock. He sat there, as still as a statue, before he sighed quietly and proceeded to wet the cloth, then continued to wash his servant in silence.

* * *

 

 Sebastian thoughtlessly placed the peaches into their proper display, his bored ocular organs watching as he stacked the fruits. It had been a long day, and dusk was just now approaching. The sun had yet to set, but it would disappear beyond the horizon soon, blessing France with the glorious stars and ghostly moon. Casual conversations of passing patrons would occasionally meet Sebastian's ears, but he didn't care to listen. They would all talk about the same old topics, and he refused to bore himself on such trivialities.

 One by one, he set each peach down, thankful that he wasn't tempted to bite into the juicy delights. He had always been fond of peaches, but thanks to Bard bringing him a portion of the bread that he managed to steal from a baker, Sebastian wasn't very famished at the moment. The merchant stopped stacking so he could roll the sleeves of his long shirt up, his arms feeling a bit sweaty underneath the fabric. Unfortunately, it had been a rather hot day, and he would be thankful when the impending nightfall would cool the land down.

 "Sebastian."

 The man halted his every move; he even stopped breathing, when he heard the familiar voice. He never thought that he'd hear that soft, yet slightly sharp tone ever again, but he did. It echoed in his ear drums, pulsated within his heart, throbbed through his veins. He had heard it, and he forced himself to maintain a calm demeanor while he stood to face the owner of the voice.

 "L-Lord Phantomhive," He stuttered, instantly shattering the fake composure when he took in the sight of the male. "How can I be of service?"

 "Don't call me that," he simply stated, his hardened orbs seeming to gleam under a watery barrier. Sebastian's eyes slightly widened in surprise.

 "But you said-"

 "I know what I said," Ciel interrupted, forcing his pupils to stare directly into Sebastian's. "And I didn't mean any of it."

 Again, Sebastian's eyes lit up. "Then why did you-"

 "My actions did not go without reason, Sebastian," he cut off once again. "But that reason was not one of my own. After being forbidden from seeing you, and living through each day knowing that you would no longer be there, I realised that I won't allow my life to be that way. I want to be with you, Sebastian."

 The peasant's mouth turned dry upon hearing Ciel's proclamation, and he was unsure of what to say. He wanted to squeal and holler, to pick the boy up and spin him around in circles in elation, he wanted to hold the body that he missed touching so dearly, even if for a mere moment. But he couldn't. It wasn't right. "Ciel, we can't be together," he finally said in a hoarse whisper. "You're engaged."

 Crossing his arms defensively, Ciel took a few steps forward, closing some of the distance between them. "Forgive me if I'm wrong, Sebastian, but I believe the gift of love is far more meaningful than the gift of stone."

 Sebastian was tremoring, though whether the lord could tell, he was unsure. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, wasn't sure if he was hallucinating or if this was actually real. But, yet again, he was clueless as to what to say. "Why did you come here?"

 Ciel let his eyes wander around the environment, casually taking a few more strides forward. "I simply came here to scold you, Sebastian."

 As soon as he finished speaking, Sebastian's expression went from nervous to pure confusion, and he couldn't stop the instinctual blurting that broke out of his lips. "Whatever for?"

 "You promised me that I would get my happily ever after," Ciel recalled, taking one more step so that they were only a few inches apart. "And I'm not happy, Sebastian..." he confessed, his doe eyes rising to stare deeply into the crimson irises that he adored to no end. “...At least not without you."

 Those last words opened the floodgate, and Sebastian immediately curled his arms around Ciel's waist in a tight embrace, their lips smashing together passionately as they closed the final inches that separated them from each other. Ciel's fingers tangled in Sebastian's ebony hair while the peasant's loving hands traveled up and down Ciel's back, caressing every sensitive crevice. They kissed each other hungrily, time seeming to be frozen while they made up for the time that they had lost.

 Eventually, the two broke their connection in order to breathe, even though they hadn't desired to. They were both panting as if they had ran miles, and a shaky smile spread across Ciel's lips, his hands still desperately clutching onto Sebastian's locks. "I love you."

 Sebastian, still panting, rested his forehead against Ciel's, refusing to break the stare that they held. "And I love you."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! Wasn't the ending adorable? Super cheesy, but hey, cheese is delicious.  
> I hope you all enjoyed! Next chapter coming soon! ^-^


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